Chapter 85 - Oh Lord (Patreon)

Sunday almost attacked at the first sign of movement, but it was just Vyn’s head that appeared, followed by the rest.

“Gods be thrice damned, what is going on?!” the man asked in a hushed voice. He stopped when he noticed the headless vampire remains that were starting to let out a thick dark smoke. The skin was beginning to flake like ash from a cigarette and the process was only picking up speed.

Sunday looked away from the smoldering corpse of what had been a scary vampire lord and shrugged. “I fucked up,” he said.

Vyn’s eyes jumped from Sunday to the corpse and back. “We need to go!”

I can’t agree more. I don’t have the time to wait for the rest of these monsters. His time in the realm of the hunter was like a bad nightmare. It was hazy and fractured, but pieces of it followed Sunday’s mind like dark clouds, giving him a sense of growing anxiety. Part of it had to do with the fact he was supposed to have died after all his questionable choices. Was it blind luck or something else keeping him alive? Could he push things further? Like a suicidal maniac, raging against the forces keeping him alive.

He had expected the hound to do better. He had bet on it and lost. And yet… here he was, and the vampires were gone. And I’ll follow them into the dark if I don’t get my head out of my ass in the next three days. I need spells.

“Go!” Vyn barked. Sunday followed. His friend was right. Essence was churning inside of him with renewed strength, but it didn’t even feel usable. It was wild and powerful and didn’t listen to Sunday’s will. However, he could feel the Yew Tree work and slowly transform it into energy he could use. The quality and presence of the essence was enough proof that whatever had happened, had been real.

And if the Hunter was a living being that could walk and talk, then was the one with the slap? Were his other talents gifts from foreign gods encroaching into this world? Sunday knew he was a tool, but he could not trust any words or writings on what exactly that entailed. He needed something concrete. Someone who knew what the hell was going on. Even Mera was uncertain of the knowledge she held.

The corridor was empty, apart from a few terrified ‘prisoners’. The young women and men looked horrified and unable to decide whether it was worth making a run for it. Sunday knew the feeling, so he didn’t try to rile them up. He was too worried about what awaited at the bottom of the stairs. Vampires were fast, and they had been allowed plenty of time to gather and overwhelm them with sheer numbers.

And yet, there was no one coming.

They ascended the stairs and passed the corridor with ease. Sunday took the lead since he doubted Vyn would even be able to react in time if a vampire assaulted them. Summoning a month was a good deterrent.

“How’s their hearing?” Sunday whispered as they looked around the corner of a hall he hadn’t passed through before.

“Amazing. They’re the perfect predators when it comes to hearing and smell.”

Great. I wouldn’t call them perfect though…

The lack of windows made finding an exit more difficult than it was supposed to be.

Sunday heard the billowing of clothes and without hesitation summoned two months. The Hunter had done him a great service by refilling his essence, even if it was a bit difficult to control it.

The vampire hissed and stopped short of Vyn’s neck before he retreated to the side.

Fuck.

A few more appeared and surrounded them. Five in total.

“Where’s Lord Versum?” One of them asked.

Sunday shrugged. He poured his essence into a full-strength Phantasmal Fall, deciding to unleash the spell upon the wretched bastards. It was difficult to exclude Vyn from it, but he tried his best. The vampires moved in the next instance, having sensed the danger.

It was almost like the world took a tumble. Sunday felt it all happen in his mind’s eye, but he was just an observer. Up became down, left became right, and the senses of the vampires became a scrambled mess.

One almost went through the floor while another hit the wall with speed and strength that would’ve killed a normal person. The walls were, fortunately, made of stone and remained unbroken. The rest of the group struggled too and soon the room was a broken mess of shattered stone and furniture. One of the vampires fell close to them, getting himself burned by the moths circling the two like a shield, and screamed.

Vyn moved in the next instance separating the head from the rest of the body. “It will slow them down!”

Sunday nodded. Cutting a head off to slow someone down hadn’t passed through his mind, but seemed like a reasonable thing when it came down to vampires. The two moved and closed the door behind them as they rushed down another corridor. It was mere seconds later that the door broke down and he sensed the rapidly approaching vampires. Without a hound or the Hunter’s tricks, they were deadly opponents to him.

He once again used Phantasmal Fall, while positioning the moths like a shield and summoning two more. It took a lot more essence, but two grey ones popped into existence without him having to force the summons to mend together. Soul moths seemed to do a lot more against vampires – similarly to how effective they were against the spawn of the Divine. There was some connection there, but it was not the time or place to mull over such things.

The vampire that had almost lunged at them screamed, but he still managed to grab Vyn’s arm. There was a crunch, but Vyn gritted his teeth and didn’t let out a sound. A moment later one of the white moths burst near the vampire's hand, burning it and healing Vyn simultaneously.

The soul moths descended and the vampire fled. His bloody eyes showed a hint of madness and fear as he gazed upon the slow creatures. Sunday wondered if summoning soul moths through the blood moon was possible. If yes, then he had half a mind to fill the mansion with them.

The two continued running around until finally, Sunday recognized the foyer from where they had entered the vampire’s home. Another group of vampires appeared at the same time and he held them off by using the moths as a shield, while Vyn opened the door.

His friend froze, and Sunday frowned. He glimpsed behind only to feel his non-existent blood stop in his veins and his stomach drop. Vampires, about thirty or forty of them – at least as far as he could see – stood around the manor. Some were sitting on low rooftops, while others were embracing beautiful women and men, and not paying attention at all. Few were even feeding.

At the very front were two that even had chairs. Sunday didn’t remember seeing them when he had walked into the ‘breakfast’ party. They gave the same feeling as Versum – one of danger that far exceeded the rest of the vampires.

The only reason Sunday had managed to kill the lord had been the exhaustion and the damage the shadows had done to him. It was doubtful a soul moth could even touch one of those.

“Well, well, well,” one of them began. “Are these two why you wanted to bother the Baron? Versum has truly fallen low.”

A figure wiggled from behind the chair. Its feet and arms were cut off, but the bleeding stumps were already healing – slower than Sunday had seen the vampires manage it before.

“Yes, Lord. They’re a danger. They summoned a monster!”

“I see no monsters. All I see is incompetence and shame. However, for providing us entertainment I shall allow you to heal one arm. Never say I’m not generous.” The one on the chair spoke. He had a goatee and dark hair that was slicked back and shone under the moon’s lights.

“Where is Versum?” the other lord asked – a bald man with a hawkish nose. He had none of the surface beauty present in other representatives of the species.

Sunday finally allowed himself to turn fully. The vampires coming from behind them were frozen and their ugly expressions betrayed only fear and shame. Not a hint of anger remained.

“Dead,” Sunday replied. Things were tough but… hopefully telling Kallus where he was going would serve him well. It was one thing to jump into the jaws of a monster without much of a plan. It was another thing to jump while having two plans that relied on supernatural forces or the babbling mouths of weird wights.

The vampire lord who had asked the question scoffed. “Dead,” he repeated. Then, to everyone’s surprise, started laughing.

The other lord chuckled too and shook his head, while the surrounding them vampires looked around with… excitement? Sunday wasn’t sure what it was, but he was certain this was not the reaction he had expected.

“The fool finally got himself killed. I told him self-initiative would be his doom. Tell me, mage, who killed him? Did he suffer?” Lord Goatee asked.

Sunday returned the vampire's smile. “I did. And yes, I’d like to think he did.”

The hawk-nosed lord laughed harder, while the other one nodded and spoke.

“I see. It has been a while since a Lord has died. It is truly a joyous occasion for all of the older ones who’ve been relegated to being simple servants or lowly pack leaders. What do you think Oswald, shall we keep these two alive for the ascension?”

The hawk-nose needed a few more moments to calm down before he stopped laughing. “No. They’ve killed a Lord. Death for them and all the blood slaves in the house. It’s how it should be.”

“Hmm. You’re right.”

Sunday gritted his teeth and sensed the shaking of Vyn next to him. His friend was trying to be calm, but he was failing. There was no chance of winning against so many vampires, no matter what he did. Perhaps he could take a few out with his current essence reserves, but Versum had proven that he could survive the moths with ease if he wished to. Two Lords plus tens of regular vampires with varying strengths was an impossible challenge.

A ray of hope, however, came from the weirdest place.

“My Lords, a-allow me to speak,” the one without legs and an arm spoke. One of his arms had completely reformed, creating an even more disturbing image. He was standing weirdly on it, like a grotesque mockery of the human form, while the three stump’s flesh wiggled like worms in an attempt to heal. Having him consciously stop his regeneration was cruel even by Sunday’s standards.

“Speak,” the goatee one waved.

“The human is a prized resource for the Baron. He’s Halline’s brother, and Versum was tasked with keeping him out of harm’s way in case he ever became useful in… making her repay her debt.”

“Oh?”

The two lords seemed very intrigued by that. “What about the mage?” the one called Oswald asked. Sunday didn’t like his gaze, but then again, he was at death’s door so it was hardly surprising.

“A healer of dead and living that Lord Versum has been gathering information on. The Lord planned to enslave him and use him as a healer for the blood slaves, and perhaps as aid in his hobby of brewing blood wines.”

“Very well, you can regrow a leg. The left one.”

“Traitor!” One of the vampires behind Sunday hissed.

Oswald moved so fast that Sunday couldn’t even react. His hair stood on end but before he could blink the hawk-nosed vampire was back in his chair, holding a head and looking at it with curiosity.

“Versum was the weakest of us, and the manner in which some of his servants behave makes that even clearer. Perhaps it was a mercy he died at the hands of the mage. However, he was also one of us, and if Halline’s brother is not an option, then the mage will have to bear the consequences. Keeping him alive will invite the meddling bastards of the Arcanum to poke their noses in our affairs. I say we flay him and then kill him,” he said.

“That’s true. An example has to be made, and doing it now will be the most practical choice.”

The vampire lord’s eyes glistened dangerously and this time, it was him that lunged at Sunday.