A Vampire is Born (A LitRPG short story) (Patreon)

Hi guys, below is a litrpg short story I wrote for an anthology:  available here. You can read the full story below. If you do, let me know what you think!

A Vampire is Born

Thump… thump…

My eyes slid open. Something had awoken me from the half-sleep that seemed my perpetual state these days.

Thump… thump… thump…

There it went again. It was the beat of a heart—human, I guessed—made faint by distance, but approaching closer every moment.

I have a visitor.

That in itself was a surprise. I’d been tossed in this nearly-forgotten section of the prison weeks ago—or was it months?—and in all that time, no one, not a single guard, had bothered to check on me.

Have the Gifted finally decided to see me staked and burned? Or do they believe I must’ve rotted away by now and sent someone to fetch the corpse?

I didn’t care much either way. Anything was better than the pseudo-life to which I had been sentenced. Even death.

Feeling more alert by the second, I tracked the approaching lifesign. It seemed steady, indicative of a fit and healthy individual, but I couldn’t be certain. The creature I’d become was still a stranger to me. I was sure, though, that my visitor was alone.

It doesn’t matter who it is or how strong they are. This is the chance I’ve been waiting for. If I’m quick, I can—

Words burned themselves across my mind.

It was a message from Scales. Leaving off my racing thoughts, I turned my attention inwards to see what the god had to say.

Warning, Gifted. You must feed within one hour or risk triggering your blood craze.

My lips turned down sourly. Scales’ warning was timely. In my excitement over the visitor, I’d almost forgotten about the blood craving. The hunger for blood was the bane of my new existence, and even after all this time, I often forgot its harsh demands. The creature I had become had to drink fresh blood every six hours.

Or else.

I rose shakily to my feet. There was no ignoring the blood craze. I’d experienced it once. Only once. That one time had been enough to make me wish never to feel its effects again. Tuning out the heartbeat of the approaching human, I searched beneath its resounding echo for much quieter lifesigns.

Namely, the rhythmic thump of little rat hearts.

The prison was infested with the creatures, and as unappealing as the thought of feeding on rodents was, the vermin were all that had kept me alive and the craze at bay.

It took a few moments of intense concentration to locate the nearest clump of the creatures. They were in their usual spot at the far end of the level. After weeks of being preyed on, the little buggers knew better than to loiter near me. Slipping out of my cell, I tiptoed silently towards the nest.

I was the only prisoner in the section. In fact, the entire level was buried many floors deep in the prison complex and far from any other occupied level, which was why I was sure my visitor—whoever it was—could only be here for me.

Being the only prisoner in the section had its advantages. My jailors had seen no reason to lock my cell door, giving me free run of the entire area and, more importantly, access to the rats.

Drawing closer to the creatures, I slowed my steps and began stalking my prey. Heightened hearing and an unhealthy sensitivity to heartbeats were not the only gifts of my new state. I could also see perfectly in the dark.

It made hunting the rats almost too easy.

Setting my sights on one of the little critters, I lunged. Sensing death approaching, the rat squeaked and attempted to flee. But even before my turning, I’d always been quick, and the rodent stood no chance.

My left hand flashed out and closed fast around the rat. Bringing the creature close, I wrapped my right hand around its neck and twisted sharply.

You have killed a rat. This creature contains no essence for your Mark to siphon.

Ignoring Scales’ message, I sliced open the rodent’s torso with filthy fingernails sharpened for just this purpose. Hurrying now—the blood had to be consumed fresh—I shoved my face into the creature’s exposed innards and began to drink.

Your hunger has been sated. Blood craze counter reset. Time before you must feed again: six hours.

For the next few seconds, I lost myself in bliss. Say what you would of my new existence, the taste of blood was always intoxicating.

In the first few days of my altered state, I’d barely been able to stop myself from going on a rampage and indulging my blood craving at every opportunity. The disciples that had trained me in my former life had always said I had a will of iron. It had stood me in good stead, and now, after weeks of practice, I could ignore the desire to feed except when life-threatening.

That made the act of drinking no less enjoyable, though.

I wonder what the disciples would make of me now, I mused idly, luxuriating in the feel of the thick warm blood sliding down my throat. They’re probably cursing the day, they ever—

“Scales above!” someone exclaimed. “That’s disgusting.”

My head jerked upwards, and I whipped around.

~~~

A man stood behind me.

How could I have forgotten the visitor?

I blamed my blood-induced euphoria. Still, it was no excuse. Idiot! My carelessness had cost me the element of surprise and possibly my only chance of escape.

Dropping the rat, I let my hands hang loose and readied myself to act.

“Are you Macerio?” the stranger asked.

I was, but no one called me that. I was Mace to both friends and foe. Whoever my visitor was, he was not a former acquaintance.

My first impulse on recovering from my surprise had been to leap forward in attack. Now... I wasn’t so sure. My visitor defied my expectations.

For one, he was certainly no guard—he had neither arms nor armor. And for another, he bore none of the telltale tattoos of a Gifted.

Who is this fool to enter here alone, unaccompanied, and without so much as a sword? Does he fear me so little?

Not responding to the stranger’s question, I scrutinized him intently. The man was thin with little muscle on his frame. His neatly dressed hair fell to his shoulders and sported no few grays. His clothes were well-tailored and expensive—and definitely out of place in the squalid prison. Rings decorated his hand, and a chain of office hung across his neck.

A noble then.

But what was a nobleman doing in the prison alone? And treading where even the guards feared to venture?

Even stranger, my visitor carried no torch. Yet as evinced by his earlier comment, he had no trouble seeing in the dank darkness that was my home. Which meant he wore an enchantment. Those were normally reserved for use by the Gifted, but despite a longer study of the man, I failed to spot any distinctive markings about him the second time around.

So he is not just any noble, but a rich one with access to enchantments.

The silence had drawn out, and my visitor began to shift uncomfortably. “Are you the Cursed?”

My jaws tightened at the familiar epithet, but still I said nothing. Cursed is what they called one such as me: a Gifted whose gifts were tainted by Chaos.

“By Scales’ hairy arse!” the noble swore foully.

My brows rose at his unexpected crassness. The obscenity didn’t seem to fit with the rest of his refined appearance. It must be his fear talking. Perhaps, he is not such a fool after all.

“Why won’t you bloody answer me?” the nobleman continued, not noticing my surprise. “Are you Macerio the Cursed? The vampire?”

“W-who… a-are you?” I rasped. My body was weak and malnourished, and getting the words out was a struggle. The rats may have kept me alive, but a steady diet of the critters had done nothing to maintain my strength.

You don’t need the rats anymore. There’s a healthy human standing right in front of you. The subversive thought slipped in unnoticed. Feed off him, and you will be hale again.

It was the blood craving speaking, urging me to quench my thirst. I banished the temptation. In my short time as a vampire, I’d managed to avoid feeding on humans. I was not about to begin now.

Besides, I was curious about who the stranger was and how he’d come to be here.

“I’m Count Esteban,” my visitor replied, relieved that I’d finally spoken. “I’m here to help you.”

“Really? And the Gifted and their guards allowed you to just waltz in here, did they?” Deciding the noble was no threat, I raised my fingers to my mouth and began to lick them clean while I waited on his answer.

Esteban looked away, his face turning an unhealthy shade of yellow, but he didn’t comment on what I was doing. “Of course, they didn’t,” he squeaked. “I had to bribe the warden to let me in.” He shot me a quick look. “As for the Gifted themselves, they have forgotten you entirely.”

I snorted. I highly doubted that. Saying nothing, I kept sucking on the ends of my fingers. Once the blood dried, it was nearly impossible to get out. While I could do nothing about my tattered clothes, blackened feet, and grimy hair, I did what I could to keep myself free of blood.

“Goddamn! Won’t you stop that?” Esteban yelled, sounding queasy.

I just stared at him.

Withdrawing a white handkerchief from his pocket, Esteban held it out to me at the end of an outstretched arm.

Frowning, I took the offered item and cleaned first my fingernails, then my mouth of the blood smeared around it. “That better?” I asked somewhat sarcastically.

“Thank you,” Esteban said, the words sounding heartfelt.

Folding the bloody cloth carefully, I tucked it into the only pocket I had that was still not torn. It could come in handy later. When I was done, I turned back to the noble. “Now tell me why you are here.” I paused. “And why I shouldn’t kill you.”

~~~

“I told you I’m here to help—” Esteban began.

“Forgive me, but that hardly seems likely.” Flexing my hands, I took a menacing step forward.

The count didn’t miss the threat. “If you kill me, there’ll be no getting out of here for you,” he blurted breathlessly.

I shrugged and took another step. “At least I’ll get to taste human blood before I die,” I said, only half-joking.

Esteban’s face turned red, but to his credit, he didn’t back away. “I can get you out!” the noble squeaked.

“And why would you do that?” I asked scornfully. I was within arm’s reach of the noble now.

“Because I want something in return from you.”

I paused in my advance. “What?”

“Before I tell you, I need you to answer a question for me,” Esteban said bravely.

I couldn’t help but smile. Despite the very real danger the noble was in, he didn’t lack a spine. “Go ahead. Ask away.”

Esteban swallowed and took a moment to regain his composure. “Is it true that Cursed are still Gifted?”

I struggled to let no sign of my consternation show. It was a wholly unanticipated question. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected Esteban to ask, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this.

The nature of the Cursed was a debate that had been raging amongst the Gifted and Scales’ disciples for millennia. While Cursed were rare, they were not unknown. Popular belief held that after becoming tainted by Chaos, a Gifted was stripped of Scales’ blessing.

I hadn’t doubted the truth of conventional wisdom—not until I’d morphed from Gifted to Cursed myself. But when I continued hearing the god in my head after my turning, I knew that the teachings of Scales’ own disciples were wrong, or at least not the whole truth.

Even more disconcerting, despite me being a vampire—a creature many Gifted considered to be in the upper echelons of Chaos’ ranks—Scales still addressed me as a ‘Gifted.’

It was the only reason I hadn’t given into despair entirely after my turning. The god had not forsaken me, and some part of me remained a Gifted.

I was not beyond redemption.

“It is true,” I said finally, even as I wondered how Esteban had happened across this truth.

“Then you can enter a dungeon?” the count asked, eagerness slipping through his expression.

I tilted my head to the side and studied the man anew. It was another interesting—if dangerous—question. Dungeons were how Chaos usually manifested in the world. They spawned randomly across the land and, if not quickly dealt with, would birth mutated creatures born of darkness—vampires not the least of them—that would escape and run amok amongst the empire’s human population.

It was only the Gifted—humanity’s champions—who could lead parties into a dungeon and destroy its minions, thereby restoring Order to the infected region. I’d never heard of a Cursed entering a dungeon, but since it was Scales who controlled access to the dungeons and the god still seemed to consider me a Gifted…

“I’m not sure,” I answered truthfully. “But I suspect so.”

The uncertainty in my tone dampened some of Esteban’s enthusiasm, but he forged on. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He exhaled a deep breath. “I will help you escape imprisonment if you enter a dungeon for me.”

“Why?” I asked, perplexed by the nature of his request.

“To free my niece.”

I blinked. Seeming to understand my confusion, Esteban explained, “My niece, Stella, entered a newly formed dungeon in our lands a week ago and became trapped. She is the family’s only remaining Gifted, and it’s imperative I free her.”

“But why come to me? Won’t the Gifted help?”

Esteban blew out a frustrated breath. “They have refused to help. There’s been a fresh outbreak of Chaos on the empire’s southern borders. Every available Gifted has gone south to clear out the new dungeon infestations.”

I winced. I’d been a Gifted myself once, if only one in training, and comprehended better than most the devastation a new outbreak could wreak. “How bad is it?”

“There is talk about two or three duchies being lost.”

I bowed my head. The eternal war between Chaos and Order had been raging in the world of Kel for eons. Millennia ago, the war had been won by Order and the emperor, its premier champion. Since that day, the continent had fallen under humanity’s rule, and Chaos had been banished to the dark corners of the world.

After the emperor’s triumph, Chaos was only able to spawn its dungeons deep in the earth, but in recent months, the scales appeared to be turning. More dungeons were being born every day and with greater frequency than ever before. No longer were the Gifted able to close them as soon as they appeared.

By necessity, many dungeons remained open, growing ever larger and more dangerous with every passing week as the Gifted were forced to restrict their efforts to the most dangerous ones. It was said that soon, dungeons would soon start spawning anywhere and cover areas that stretched across multiple duchies as they had in Kel’s distant past.

“Will you do as I ask?” Esteban asked.

I smiled broadly, revealing sharp and distinctly inhuman incisors.

Involuntarily, the noble took a step back.

“Of course,” I replied. “Anything to get out of this bloody prison.”

~~~

“Before we can proceed, I need you to prove you are what you say you are,” Esteban said.

“How?” I asked, genuinely curious. As far as I knew, there was no way for an unGifted to examine a Gifted’s talents.

Esteban withdrew a stone tablet from his inside coat pocket and held it out to me. The greater part of the object was plain and unadorned, but its edges bore markings that were familiar to me from my days of training under Scales’ disciples. “What is that?” I asked, my interest quickening.

“It’s an identification device. I got it from an abandoned monastery,” Esteban said. “Centuries ago, this artifact was used to analyze unknown Gifted and determine their classes. I suppose that’s unnecessary these days, what with the emperor and disciples allocating Gifted their classes.” He shot me a sideways glance. “That didn’t happen with you, of course.”

I nodded slowly. Classes where how Scales labeled the Gifted. While no one could claim to know the mind of the god, his disciples had long since figured out that the classification was according to the talents each Gifted possessed.

By some arcane art, known only to the disciples themselves, the brotherhood had figured out how to unlock the most desired talents in each young Gifted. I’d never completed my training with the monks and hence never had my own talents unlocked by them. Instead, by ill fortune or fate, I’d become tainted and obtained a class all on my own.

There were whole schools of scholars dedicated to the study of the many classes in the world. Despite this, I’d never heard mention of my own. But then, I’ve never heard of any Cursed class, and it was a good bet that knowledge of such was suppressed by the emperor and the disciples.

I turned back to the device. “How do I activate it?”

“Simply touch it,” Esteban replied.

I did as the count bade, curious despite myself to see what information would be revealed. Words appeared in the center of the tablet. Head bent, I read what they said.

Name: Macerio Deville. Type: High Gift.

Class: Bloodborn. Tier: 0, Bloodsucker. Level: 0.

Abilities: 0. Talents: 7. Traits: 6.

Esteban frowned, and I smiled. The device had revealed only the most basic of information, leaving my abilities, talents, and traits hidden. Which was all to the good. If it had displayed my talents, I would have had no choice but to kill Esteban.

Not even the Gifted who had captured me after my tainting, had realized just how touched by Chaos I was. If they’d suspected the truth, I knew I would have been killed outright and not kept imprisoned as a test subject for the disciples’ experiments.

“You’re a High Gift?” Esteban asked.

“Does that surprise you?” I responded. Not all talents were equal. Gifted with talents from the Order sphere—in my case, Chaos—were considered more gifted than those with talents from the lower spheres.

It does,” Esteban replied. “But it only makes you more suited for my task, not less.”

I folded my arms. “You still haven’t shared the details of this task with me.”

The count waved aside my question. “All in good time. First, you will have to escape from here.” His gaze darted back to the tablet. “And since you haven’t advanced pass rank zero yet,” he muttered, “that may be more challenging than I anticipated.”

I narrowed my gaze. “What do you mean I have to escape? I thought you claimed you could get me out of here.”

Esteban wrangled his hands. “It’s complicated,” he mumbled.

“Do you have a way out or not?” I demanded sharply, beginning to doubt the noble.

“I have, I have,” the count said, holding his palms out for patience.

“But?” I asked, knowing there was one.

“But,” Esteban said reluctantly, “it’s through the Gifted testing facility.”

I stared at him. The testing facility was where young Gifted took their final examination before graduation, and it was almost always swarming with senior Gifted, disciples, and monsters.

Going there would be a death sentence.

“You better explain further,” I said softly.

Seeing my mounting anger, Esteban began speaking rapidly. “This entire prison level, do you know why it exists?” he asked. Not waiting for my response, he went on. “This is where the disciples hold the Chaos spawn they use in the testing facility. There are eight sub-sections on this level arranged in a horseshoe configuration. And do you know what’s in their center? The testing facility!” The count gesturing vaguely to somewhere behind me. “The door to it is right there!”

I didn’t look where he pointed, but I knew a door was there. I’d never managed to open it and had just assumed it exited to a lower prison level.

“With all the Gifted heading south,” the count continued, “the facility is currently unoccupied, and its exit—entrance rather—has been left unguarded.”

“Unoccupied?” I asked, latching onto that particular fact.

“Well, unoccupied by Gifted,” Esteban temporized. “There are still Chaos spawn in there.”

I felt hope quicken. Trying to make my way through the testing facility would still be dangerous, but absent Gifted and the disciples, it wasn’t a sure death sentence. Besides, Esteban’s plan was the only chance of escape that had presented itself in all the time I’d been here, and I was not about to turn him down. “How do I get through the door?”

Esteban extracted a key from his pocket and handed it to me. “I’m afraid I don’t have any gear for you. I couldn’t smuggle any past the guards. But there should be equipment caches in the facility. You only have to find them.”

I grimaced. A sword would have been nice, but I would make do without. Wordlessly, I took the key and swung away, heading for the testing facility.

“I’ll meet you on the other side,” Esteban yelled to my receding figure.

I simply nodded and kept walking.

~~~

I reached the entrance to the testing facility and paused at the door, staring down at the key in my hand. If the count was right, mutated Chaos creatures waited on the other side. I’d trained to fight the monsters for the better part of my life, yet I had never put any of my skills to the test.

I would today.

The thought of doing so now both excited and scared me. What if I proved unequal to the challenge?

Don’t think that. You will do this. Somehow. You have to.

In truth, it was less the thought of facing the monsters without than accepting the monster within that scared me. Once I passed through the door, I could no longer avoid what I’d become.

To escape the prison and stay free of the Gifted—not just today but forevermore—I would need to use every resource at my disposal. I would not only have to accept I was Cursed and a vampire but exploit every advantage that gave me while shoring up those of my weaknesses that I could.

Indeed, I would have to fully embrace my new reality.

To do that, though, I first had to fully understand who I’d become. It was time to study my class, something I’d avoided doing up to this point.

“Scales,” I breathed in the privacy of my mind, “display class profile.”

The god of this world rarely heeded his Gifted’s requests, but over the centuries, the disciples had discovered that some word combinations would always trigger a response from him.

Request acknowledged, Gifted. Displaying your class data...

Phantom-like words appeared before my eyes, floating on unseen air currents.

CLASS DATA: MACERIO DEVILLE

Type: High Gift. Class: Bloodborn.

Bloodborn, colloquially referred to as vampires, are a rare designation reserved for living wielders of Chaos that have been infected by undeath.

Level: 0. Specialization: none. Tier: 0, Bloodsucker.

Bloodsuckers are the weakest form of Bloodborn.

Abilities: 0. Talents: 7. Traits: 6.

Abilities

Known abilities: none.

Available Talents

Chaos sphere talents: Chaos, Death, Shadow.

Mundane sphere talents: Grace, Guile, Brawn, Perceptiveness.

Class Traits

blood crazed: without blood every 6 hours, a bloodsucker’s body quickly begins to break down. The mind is the first to go.

sun cursed: bloodsuckers cannot bear direct sunlight and on feeling its touch will turn to ash in 10 seconds.

light afflicted: light in all its forms is harmful to a newborn vampire. The benefits of all your talents are halved while you are under any form of artificial light.

poison immunity: the taint of a vampire’s blood is too strong for any other toxin to take hold.

dark vision: you have perfect night sight.

blood sense: you can sense the heartbeat of nearby living creatures.

corpse drain: you may consume a freshly slain corpse to heal yourself.

“Ah,” I exhaled. Some of the information that Scales displayed I had known or suspected already. The sheer number of traits I possessed caught me by surprise, though.

I knew of no other class with as many starting traits—the greater part of which were debilitating in nature. But then, vampires were always considered odd.

They numbered amongst the most powerful of the Chaos spawn—the elder ones at least, the young ones were easy enough to kill—and straddled the boundary between death and life more closely than any other undead.

In one sense, I was dead: my heart did not beat. But in another sense, I was very much alive. The blood in my veins still flowed. I continued to feel pain, and my other organs still functioned. The only difference was my source of nourishment. These days I fed on blood, not food.

The only difference, eh? That was not quite true. But there was no harm in pretending otherwise sometimes.

I returned to the matter at hand. I had a lot of potential to work with but also a lot of vulnerabilities to protect too. “Scales, dismiss class profile.”

The writing in the air disappeared.

Behind me, I sensed the last lingering trace of Esteban disappear, the thud of his heart growing fainter as he ascended the stairs at the section’s other exit and made his way to the level above.

Enough dawdling. It was time to move. Inserting the key into the door, I spun open the lock.

~~~

The door swung open silently. Not too long ago, it had been well oiled. With my back braced against one of the adjacent walls, I waited tensely for any reaction.

Blood sense had already told me there was nothing alive nearby. But that didn’t mean there weren’t any dead things about or that there wasn’t a trap waiting to be sprung. The second ticked by, and when nothing emerged, I leaned forward and peered around the doorway.

An empty corridor greeted me.

The passage—dark, unlit, and paved with stones—stretched beyond my sight and looked safe to enter. Crossing the threshold, I locked the door behind me. There was no point in letting the guards know how I’d escaped.

Dropping into a half-crouch, I crept up the corridor. The stone underfoot was cold, and the walls on either side were moldy and damp. The surroundings did not deter me, though. No matter its appearance, the tunnel made for a welcome change from the prison.

I kept advancing, pausing every so often to listen intently for lifesigns, but it was at least ten minutes before the faint tremor of a beating heart came into range of my senses.

I stopped and tried to divine what lay ahead. It wasn’t human, that much I was sure off. But what it could be, I had no way to tell yet.

Shrugging, I resumed my advance.

Presently, the passage ended, spilling out into a circular chamber. Dropping to all fours, I crept forward. The passage exit was set halfway up one of the chamber’s walls. Perched on the lip of the ledge, I peered down.

The room was nearly ten yards in diameter and paved with the same gray stone as the corridor. Torches were set about the perimeter, but they remained unlit. There were three other exits that I could see, one at each point of the compass. In the center of the chamber was a still pool of water.

The creature I’d sensed was in the room’s center, hiding beneath the water’s surface.

Does it know I am here?

I wasn’t sure, but I had no choice except to forge onwards. Swinging over the edge of the ledge, I dropped lightly into the room.

Ripples broke out across the pond, and a shadowy shape cut through the water in my direction.

Well, I thought wryly. That answers that. It’s spotted me.

Reaching up to the two closest torches, I ripped them free and brandished them in the air. Their wood was brittle, and their weight distribution appeared off. I grimaced. The torches made for poor weapons, but in the absence of anything else, they would do.

Armed—sort of, anyway—I waited for my foe.

A glistening shape slithered out of the water, twice as long as I was tall—a giant serpent with glowing opal eyes.

“Scales, identify.”

The target is a level 3 frost snake. Expected forms of attack: elemental ice magic.

On the tail end of the report, the Chaos spawn unhinged its jaws and emitted a hissing jet of water in my direction.

It had been ages since I’d last been in a fight—mock battles or otherwise—but in the not-so-distant past, I’d been accounted a more than passable fighter, and my body still remembered what to do. I threw myself right, and the attack splashed harmlessly against the wall.

I rolled back to my feet and glanced at the nearest exit but only briefly contemplated fleeing in that direction. I was loath to leave an enemy at my back and needed any energy I could siphon from the creature.

Lowering my head, I charged forward.

The snake reared up, jaws opening again. But before it could launch its attack, I reached it. My left hand darted forward and shoved one torch into the snake’s mouth. The startled creature jerked backward.

Too late, though.

I brought the other torch around and stuck it behind the head. The dry wood shattered, coming apart in my hand, but it had served its purpose. The beast was momentarily stunned and swayed listlessly. Before the creature could recover, I wrapped my arms and legs about the giant snake’s torso and bit down on its neck.

Fangs were more than just tools for drinking blood.

They were weapons too.

I found an artery and drank deeply. The serpent writhed, trying to twist its head to get at me, or failing that, to shake me off. But it was no use. I had it firmly in hand.

The beast got weaker with every passing second until, eventually, it collapsed lifelessly to the floor.

You have killed a level 3 frost snake. Your Mark has commenced siphoning the creature’s essence.

I rolled off the corpse, feeling the markings under my tattered clothes come alive. At first glance, the intricate drawing seemed little more than a tattoo.

But Marks were so much more than that.

They were as much part of a Gifted as his hands or legs. Some even said it was the Marks that made us gifted. I’d been born with the Mark, the same as any other Gifted. But unlike my fellows, my own Mark had been stillborn—unmoving and unspeaking.

After I’d become tainted, my Mark had changed, turning jet-black. It still didn’t speak to me, but now it moved at will across my skin. I glanced down at the rippling shape. It was flowing down my chest to wrap around my wrist.

The disciples had claimed it was a bat, or perhaps a wyvern, and my turning had only confirmed that suspicion in their minds, but I’d always thought it looked more like a dragon.

The Mark opened its eyes, revealing orbs shaded crimson. The color of blood. The tiny dragon transfixed me with its gaze and measured my intent—or was it my worthiness? Whatever it saw seemed to satisfy the Mark, and a heartbeat later, it released me to stare at the frost snake.

The Chaos spawn began to shrivel.

I knew what was happening. My Mark was collecting the creature’s life essence.

Siphoning completed. You have gained sufficient energy to advance to level 2.

Essence gushed into me. “Aaah,” I exclaimed, laying my head back against the ground. The energy coursing through me felt almost as good as freshly-drunk blood, and I savored the sensation while I considered how to advance myself.

The extra energy I’d gained would allow me to infuse two of my talents. Gifted were ranked by the number of charged talents they had. Class ratings began at level one and capped out at one hundred, although it was rumored that the emperor and the more elite amongst the Order’s champions had surpassed that. How, was anyone’s guess.

The truth of the rumor mattered little, though. Right now, what was important was my talent distribution. I had to plan for acquiring a maximum of one hundred talents and begin planning my build even now.

“Scales, display talents,” I said.

Chaos sphere talents (locked): Chaos, Death, Shadow.

Mundane sphere talents (unlocked): Grace, Guile, Brawn, Perceptiveness.

Talents were what differentiated the Gifted from the unGifted. It gave some superhuman strength, others incredible speed or elemental magic, and allowed a select few to wield the raw power of Order itself. Not all talents were equal, of course.

Talents from spheres of Chaos and Order reigned supreme in the world of Kel. Unfortunately, my own were locked until I reached level ten, which meant that for now, I was restricted to choosing from the mundane sphere.

It did simplify my current choices, but there was another intricacy I needed to consider: the relationship between talents and abilities. After every five levels of investment in a talent, Scales bestowed a Gifted with a new ability, and after ten levels, abilities ranked up.

This meant there were distinct advantages to talent specialization. However, if I invested too narrowly, I would become a one-trick pony, easily countered by any enemy with the right combination of talents. It wasn’t that simple either, of course. There were also abilities requiring multiple talents, making establishing synergies between talents important too.

Grace and Brawn, I decided. Those were the mundane talents I would invest in. They played to my own natural strengths and penchant for direct combat.

“Scales, increase brawn to two.”

Done, Gifted. Initiating physical changes...

I barely heard the god’s words. Something was changing inside me. Energy coursed through my body, strengthening muscles, fortifying bone, and widening mana conduits.

Advancement complete.

Brawn talent charged. Current power: level 2.

Skeletal core structure hardened. Mana channels expanded.

You are now a class 2 bloodborn.

I rose back to my feet, marveling at my new strength. I’d waited all my life for this day, to experience the wonders of being a Gifted firsthand, and now that it had arrived, it felt good.

I lifted my gaze to study the room’s doorways. It was time to move on.

But which way? I wondered.

~~~

In the end, I chose an exit at random.

As I moved towards it, a flicker of motion across the pool, grown still again, drew my attention. Pausing, I turned to the water.

My reflection stared back at me.

I gawked at myself, almost not recognizing the person in the water. This was the first time I had gotten a good look at myself since my... change.

Pale didn’t begin to describe me. My skin had lost all its natural pigmentation and was ivory white—the color of bleached bones. My veins stood out starkly, especially around my eyes, flowering into a network of red that stretched from their corners all the way up to my hairline—and a head of ice-white hair.

And my eyes.... they were red—bright, pulsing, and ominous.

I shuddered. Truly, it was the visage of a monster.

I’d never heard of any vampire that looked the way I did, though. By all accounts, they appeared human, and it was only Gifted talented with perceptiveness that could tell a vampire apart from the real thing.

So what was I? A different type of vampire?

Time will tell, I thought. Turning away from my image in the pond, I strode into the next tunnel.

~~~

A few minutes later, I found myself in another room, this one unoccupied. As with the first chamber, it was circular in design. On the room’s left was a wooden chest, and I went to it immediately, hoping to find something of value.

Disappointingly, the chest was empty.

Snarling in frustration, I turned my attention to the room’s exits. Once again, there were four doorways, three not counting the one I came from. With a shrug, I strode across the room and entered the tunnel directly opposite from where I’d emerged. If I kept heading in a straight line, sooner or later, I would find the facility’s entrance or run up against its boundaries.

Halfway through the next passage, I paused. Two lifesigns beat strongly up ahead.

Dropping into a crouch, I padded forward, a torch ready in either hand. It did not take long for the beasts to come into sight. Each was about half my height, eight-legged, and covered in a dull-brown shell.

Blood spiders, I thought, not needing Scales to identify my foes this time. The creatures were common-enough, and their weaknesses well-known. The spiders’ carapaces were hardened and not easily penetrated, especially without a proper weapon, but the creatures’ shells did not enclose them fully. Their undersides were unprotected.

I will need to overturn the beasts.

Not pausing in my advance, I crept closer. It wasn’t until I entered the room itself that the spiders spotted me. Chittering angrily to themselves, they scuttled forward, forelegs raised to attack.

I made no attempt to dodge. Dropping my torches, I grabbed the raised legs of the first spider and twisted. The mutated beasts were large but still smaller than me and without the density most creatures their size possessed. Toppling my foe was easy.

The creature shrieked in surprise as it flopped onto its back. Its companion’s legs struck at me ripping my already tattered shirt to shreds and digging deep furrows through my torso.

I ignored the attack. Darting forward, I threw myself onto the overturned spider and, with my bare fists, beat at the soft flesh of its underside.

The spider’s cries turned to squeals of pain and terror. Its fellow struck me again, attempting to dislodge me from its companion. Once more, I paid it no heed.

Blood spiders primarily used poison to subdue their foes, and needless to say, that was not something I had to worry about. I kept pummeling at the downed creature until, with a forlorn exhale, the beast expired.

Then, swinging off the corpse, I threw myself at its fellow.

~~~

The second spider died as easily as the first.

You have killed a level 2 and level 3 blood spider.

…

Siphoning completed. You have gained sufficient energy to advance to level 4.

After I was done, I considered Scales’ report on the battle with mild surprise. The foes that I had faced off against thus far were extremely low-leveled. But then again, this is a testing facility for new Gifted. I shouldn’t expect anything difficult.

It boded well for my chances of escaping.

Stepping away from the corpses, I examined myself. My knuckles were bruised, raw, and nearly numb from pain. It was my torso, though, that had borne the brunt of the damage. The skin down my left and right sides was nearly as flayed as my shirt had been. Now that the first blush of adrenaline had passed, even the smallest movement hurt.

Better see to the damage first, I thought. Lowering myself again to the dead spiders, I shoved my face inside the first. Finding an artery, I sucked hungrily.

Corpse drain activated. Healing injuries…

As I drank, lost in the bliss of the feeding, my wounds closed, leaving behind unbroken skin. When I was done, I rose smoothly to my feet and wiped my mouth meticulously with Esteban’s handkerchief.

“Scales, increase brawn to four.”

Done, Gifted. Brawn charged to level 4. You are now a class 4 bloodborn.

Only then did I look around.

This chamber, too, had four exits, and I realized that had to be the standard configuration of rooms in the testing facility. To the right of the chamber was another chest.

Ambling over, I flipped it open and, to my delight, found two items inside. “Scales, identify.”

The target is a common axe.

The target is an uncommon magic staff, +1 life.

Grinning foolishly, I bent down and retrieved the axe. “Finally!” I exclaimed.

Never mind that an axe was not the weapon I was most proficient with or that this one bore no enchantments, the twin-headed weapon was still forged from solid steel. I ran my finger along one of its bladed edges and drew blood immediately.

It had a wicked edge too.

Still smiling, I left the room with the axe in tow. I left the staff behind. It was no use to me, seeing as I had no life magic, nor any other magic for that matter. And at this stage, it was better that I moved fast, without becoming bogged down with useless junk.

Having grown familiar with the facility’s configuration, I advanced rapidly down the next corridor. It spilled out into a bare room, with a chest just as empty, and I passed quickly beyond.

Even before reaching the next room, I sensed it was occupied. And if the heartbeat of the creature inside it was anything to go by, the monster was more substantial than any I’d faced so far. Slowing my steps, I dropped into a crouch while keeping my senses extended for the least sign of danger.

I was still ten yards from the room when my foe was alerted. With a roar of fury that shook the very ground, something charged down the passage towards me.

My eyes widened in alarm. I still hadn’t managed a good look at my foe—a haze of smoke obscured it—but I knew I was in trouble. “Scales, identify!” I shouted while backstepping hastily and holding the axe at guard before me.

Identification failed. Target hidden.

Goddamn! That was no help. My foe was closing too rapidly to make flight an option. With no other choice, I set my feet and waited.

The dark cloud drew closer, and two smoky eyes took shape in their midst. Not pausing to reconsider, I screamed a war cry of my own and dashed forward.

The eyes widened, and the creature’s charge seemed to falter for just a moment. Raising my axe, I swung down viciously, aiming for the only target I had—the twin eyes—hoping desperately that my foe had substance beneath its cloak of smoke.

Thunk!

The axe blade buried itself in something.

A smile of relief formed on my face, but before it had a chance to spread, an unyielding weight hit me.

It was like being hit by a tree. Or a mountain.

The air was expelled violently from my lungs, and my rib cage compressed. If my heart was still alive, it would have likely stopped beating.

I sailed backward, tumbling heedlessly through the air to crash in a battered heap a dozen yards away. Panting heavily, I curled up in a ball and tried to think through the pain.

I’d lost hold of my axe, and blood sense told me my foe was approaching closer, though slower than I expected. I struggled to crawl away, but my battered body refused to comply.

A face lowered into view. Widening eyes that had narrowed to slits from agony, I glanced at the creature looming above me. Equine, dirty grey, and hooved, the beast could have been mistaken for a horse, except for its solid black eyes and sharpened teeth.

It was a nightmare. A young one, thank Scales.

My axe was still buried squarely between the creature’s eyes—inches deep—and to my relief, the beast appeared to be battling with its injuries as much as I was.

Now that it had reached me, the nightmare seemed to lack the energy for anything more. The beast was dying. But so was I. The only question was who would expire first.

Our gazes locked, we watched one another.

~~~

An endless five minutes later, the nightmare’s legs trembled before giving away entirely. With a heavy thud, the beast collapsed. Next to me, thankfully, and not atop.

I knew it was still alive from the sounds of its harsh breathing. This is my chance, I thought. Steeling myself, I planted my elbows in the ground and dragged myself closer. My mind went white with pain, but I pushed on, clinging to consciousness as I heaved myself onto my foe and found its neck.

My hungry fangs pierced hide, and I began to drink. The nightmare feebly attempted to fend me off, but with its life already draining away, it lacked the energy.

I drank greedily, letting the feeding frenzy block out my body’s very real pain.

A level 7 nightmare has died.

Activating corpse drain…

I kept drinking, peripherally aware but uncaring that the creature under me was dead.

An eternity later, I rolled off the corpse and processed Scales’ message.

All wounds healed. Siphoning completed. You have gained sufficient energy to advance to level 6.

I bared my teeth in a bloody smile. Perfect.

~~~

Brawn charged to level 5. New abilities are available for selection.

Grace charged to level 1.

You are now a class 6 bloodborn.

Sitting down cross-legged next to my slain foe, I considered the god’s words. I’d invested the energy I’d siphoned from the nightmare in brawn and grace, and now I had the chance to acquire my first god-given ability.

“Scales, display ability options.”

More words scribbled themselves across my vision.

Option one: overpower. This ability infuses your weapon with mana, dealing twice the normal damage on the next hit.

Option two: cleave. This ability sharpens your weapon’s edge, increasing the probability of it cutting through your target. Cleave can only be used with a bladed weapon.

Option three: disarm. On your next successful hit, mana will leap into your target, numbing their hands and causing them to drop their weapons. Disarm only works on armed foes.

I studied the abilities offered by Scales intently.

All three were known to me. No one was certain how the god decided what abilities to offer a Gifted. The disciples believed it was entirely random. And while evidence certainly suggested that to be the case, it was also true that some options appeared more often than others. The choices the god had provided me now were all disappointingly common but valuable nonetheless.

“Scales, teach me overpower.”

No sooner had I thought the words than a torrent of information flowed into my consciousness. In a flash, I understood how to infuse my weapon with mana and increase the destructive power of my next strike.

Pleased with the god’s gift, I stepped past the dead nightmare and entered the chamber beyond. It had only two other exits, one to my right and the other on my left. The wall opposite me was bare except for a wooden chest.

Closing my eyes, I mentally counted the chambers I’d passed through. There had been five. Five, I mused. Assuming the testing facility was as wide as it was long, that meant there were at most twenty-five rooms. Not as bad as I feared.

In a few more hours, I can be out of here.

My gaze dropped to the closed chest. But first, I had to see what other gear the facility had in store for me.

~~~

The target is a pair of common steel boots.

I found only a single item. Still, I was not disappointed. A trusty pair of boots were almost as valuable as a good weapon, and while the pair in question were slightly too large, they fit snugly enough.

Leaving the chamber, I headed right. In the next room, I encountered a pair of giant beetles, and in the one beyond that, a trio of fire bugs. I made short work of both sets of enemies and, in the process, gained two levels and picked up a common wooden shield and gray cloak. I would have preferred armor or an enchanted ring, but both items were still useful.

Eventually, I found myself back at my starting point—the chamber with the dead frost snake. Pursing my lips, I pictured the layout of the testing facility in my mind. I had traversed its length and what I believed to be one-half of its boundary.

The facility’s design is circular, I thought. If my suppositions were correct, I would find the exit during my exploration of the next stretch. Or so I hoped.

Hefting the axe and shield in my hands, I slipped through the opposite passage.

~~~

I found the facility’s exit a little later, but contrary to Esteban’s information, the way out was guarded.

And by Gifted too.

I approached the chamber from the tunnel on the left and studied the room beyond while still sheltered within the corridor’s darkness. Other than the two men standing guard at the closed double doors, the chamber was empty. It was well-lit, too, with all the torches around the room’s perimeter set ablaze.

I turned my attention to the Gifted, identifying them for what they were by their markings. The left half of the brown-haired guard’s face was covered by the tattoo of a diving falcon, and after scrutinizing it closely, I saw the falcon flex its wings as if gliding through unseen currents.

The other guard, a bald-headed giant, bore the mark of a roaring bear across his chest which had been deliberately exposed to proudly display his tattoo.

I promptly dubbed the pair Falcon and Bear. I would have loved to ask Scales to identify them, but when it came to the Gifted, the god refused to reveal any secrets. Still, there was a lot I could tell from the two’s gear alone.

A pair of wands were clipped on Falcon’s belt, and he wore only a simple silk robe. He was obviously a spellcaster, and from his lack of heavier armor, I deduced he was not talented in brawn.

On the other hand, Bear was definitely a fighter, and if the heavy two-handed monstrosity of a hammer across his back was any indication, he’d invested heavily in brawn. But Bear was also unarmored. He was nearly naked from the waist up and wore only simple leather pants and boots to cover his lower half.

I frowned. Had Bear invested in grace too? Was that why he was unarmored? Preferring mobility over defense? I had to assume so.

I shifted imperceptibly, wondering what to do next.

As much as I hated my former colleagues for imprisoning me—and for no more reason than I was tainted by Chaos—I’d yet to raise a hand against the Gifted. I studied the chamber again. There was no safe way for me to approach the pair undetected or to sneak by, for that matter.

What choice do I have? I have to kill them—fast and without warning.

Attempting anything else would be foolish. Gifted were dangerous and unpredictable, and the longer I gave the pair to react, the less chance I’d have of surviving.

I ran my gaze over the two again, examining their shoulder patches. Bear’s was tied around his arm on a piece of cloth, while Falcon’s was sewn onto his robe.

There was a rigid hierarchy amongst the Gifted, based unsurprisingly on Scales’ own system. Reading their shoulder patches, I identified Falcon as a tier-one Elemental and Bear as a tier-one Mundane. The pair were barely more than trainees, newly graduated, I guessed.

Thank god, neither is an Archon. If either Gifted had been able to wield Order directly, that would’ve made them infinitely more dangerous.

Still, both were tier one, which put their levels anywhere between ten and nineteen—perhaps as much as twice my own level. Elementals were a step above Mundanes, too, if not as powerful as Archons.

And there are two of them.

Then there was the chamber itself. The moment I entered the room, the light from the torches would activate my light-cursed trait, further hampering me.

Hmm, this is not going to be easy.

~~~

In the end, I decided I had to retreat before I could advance.

I couldn’t take on the two Gifted on my own, which meant I needed help. Resuming my exploration of the facility, I scoured the other chambers looking for a brace of monsters to distract my foes.

Most of the remaining rooms were empty, and although some did contain monsters, they were low-leveled and not worth the effort of fighting or luring. In fact, the nightmare I’d slain seemed to be the only creature in the facility above level five, and in the end, I had to settle for using a pack of four giant scorpions.

I found them in a chamber two tunnels away from the facility exit. The beasts were only level three Chaos spawns but would serve my purpose adequately, if not perfectly. And just as importantly, the creatures were close enough to lure to my targets.

Leaving the scorpions be for the time being, I returned to the room where I’d slain the two blood spiders and hacked them apart until I found the bits I was searching for: a whole fang and a handful of venom sacs.

Breaking open the sacs, I carelessly spilled their deadly contents onto the fang and the bladed edges of my axe. I had no idea how long the exposed venom would remain potent, and not wanting to risk the toxin weakening, I hurried back to the scorpions.

It was time to put my plan in motion.

~~~

I stumbled towards the entry chamber with my gray cloak drawn low over my face, concealing my features. I’d unrolled the sleeves, too, letting them hang loose over my hands to hide my pale skin and the fang clutched in my left hand. My shield was strapped across my back, and I clenched the haft of my axe in my right hand.

The pack of scorpions was a few dozen yards behind but catching up fast as I deliberately slowed my own pace. Affecting a limp, I hobbled into the facility’s entrance chamber.

You have entered torchlight. Light afflicted debuff activated. Benefits from talents halved.

Almost immediately, I felt the debilitating effects of the light afflicted trait. My shoulders sagged, and my legs trembled, making my show of weakness all too real.

The heads of the two Gifted at the door swung my way at my entrance. “Halt!” Bear barked.

“Who in blazes are you?” Falcon demanded.

“H-help,” I gasped, ignoring their demands and lowering my face. “I’m being chased! There are scorpions on my tail.”

I kept advancing further into the room, swaying unsteadily towards the two Gifted. Both dropped their hands to their weapons but didn’t draw them yet. After all, to all appearances, I was human, and the Gifted had nothing to fear from humans.

“Where’d he come from?” Bear asked his companion in a low voice that I wasn’t meant to hear.

I answered instead. “I’m a Gifted, just like you!” I wheezed, taking another step towards them. “A... trainee. I thought I c-could attempt the trials while... you know…” I let my words trail off.

“Goddamn idiot,” Bear growled. “What were you thinking? This is no place for a half-trained student!” His hand fell away from his hammer, and some of the tension left him. He seemed to be buying my story.

“But how did you get in here?” Falcon asked, still squinting suspiciously at me. “We’ve been guarding this—”

“Please, please! Kill the creatures behind me,” I begged. “Then I’ll tell you everything.” I took another step forward.

“Not until—” Falcon began.

He broke off as the scorpions scuttled into the room. Bear drew his hammer, though scorn laced his face as he eyed the scorpions while only anger graced Falcon’s expression as he unclipped his wands.

I was two steps away from the pair now. Lurching forward suddenly, I stumbled against the burly fighter. “Get away from me, you clumsy fool,” he growled, his gaze not leaving the approaching Chaos spawn.

Letting the fang drop fully into my left palm, I slashed at the Gifted, scoring a line of red down his bare chest.

“What the—?” Bear roared.

Falcon turned my way and spotted my ivory skin. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened to voice a warning.

But he was too late. I was in striking distance.

Heaving my axe, I brought it crashing down across his shoulder, activating overpower as I executed the blow.

The sharp blade cleaved cleanly through the unarmored Gifted, piercing bone, muscle, and skin with ease and sawing his torso nearly in half.

A moment later, Falcon fell to the ground. Dead.

Bear had realized what I was now. “Cursed!” he spat and swung his oversized hammer towards me. I was too close to dodge, and with no other choice, I raised my own axe to parry the blow.

But I had neither the strength nor speed to fully turn aside the angry Gifted’s attack, and his weapon crunched into my right arm, shattering bone. I flew backward, my mouth open in a wordless howl of pain.

Bear made to follow, but just then, he stumbled. His skin had turned greenish, and spittle was gathering at the corners of his mouth. Was that the venom at work? I thought so. Before the Gifted could recover, three of the scorpions descended upon him while the other made for me.

I labored to my feet and picked up my fallen axe with my left hand. My right arm hung limp, and for the time being, it was useless. The scorpion’s pincers descended upon me. Ignoring them, I went on the attack.

Swinging the axe down from high, I empowered it in the same motion. The blade struck the creature’s hardened shell and, with barely a pause, broke through, caving in both its head and torso.

You have killed a level 3 giant scorpion. Your Mark has commenced siphoning the creature’s essence.

I whipped my head upward, searching for Bear. The Gifted had already slain two of the other three scorpions, but not without feeling the touch of one of them. A second wound marked his right arm, almost a match for the venom-touched one I’d scored down his chest.

As I watched, Bear dispatched his last foe and swung around to glare at me. His face twisted in rage, he advanced menacingly.

Mutely, I stepped back, scrutinizing the Gifted through narrowed eyes.

Bear took another step, but his leg quivered as his weight landed on his right foot. The Gifted’s face paled, and a sheen of sweat broke out across his brow.

With a grim smile, I stepped back again. The spider’s venom had not released him from its hold yet, and while it kept weakening him, there was no reason for me to go toe to toe with the fighter.

Realization crossed the Gifted’s face as he saw me retreat. Horror followed quickly, then anger. “You poisoned me, you wretch! Die!” he roared and charged forward.

But not even two steps into his maneuver, Bear’s charge faltered, his legs giving way under him. The Gifted stumbled, then swayed, before falling against a nearby wall. Leaning heavily against the stone, he panted for breath.

I paused in my retreat, wondering if it was an act. But no, the Gifted was turning greener by the moment. Bending over, he vomited.

He is no threat, I decided and stepped forward.

Bear looked up from his retching as I drew to a halt in front of him.

“Give it to me,” I said, gesturing to the ring of keys on his belt. The Gifted’s eyes darted from me to the keys. “Never,” he snarled.

“I won’t ask again,” I said evenly. “I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you force my hand.”

Bear said nothing while his hands wrapped tightly around his hammer, and he struggled to straighten from his bent-over posture.

“So be it,” I whispered. Before the sickened Gifted could recover, I swung my axe one-handed and lopped off his head.

You have killed an unknown level 13 Gifted. Your Mark has commenced siphoning his essence.

Dropping heedlessly to my knees next to the corpse, I stared in shock at Scales’ latest message.

“That can’t be,” I whispered. It had been drubbed into me repeatedly during my Gifted training that the only creatures from which essence could be siphoned were Chaos spawn.

Not wildlife.

Not humans.

And certainly not Gifted.

And yet, here I was, receiving a message from the god contradicting his disciples’ words.

Was everything I’d been taught a lie? I didn’t know, but things were beginning to make less sense, and what little faith I had remaining in the disciples had been shattered.

More words from the god spilled across my mind.

Siphoning completed. You have gained sufficient energy to advance to level 12.

“Four levels,” I murmured numbly. I’d gained four whole levels. It could only have been as a result of slaying the two Gifted.

“Scales, increase grace to five,” I said absently, still not over the shocking revelation. Was it just me, a Cursed, that could siphon energy from the Gifted? Or could other Gifted do the same? If so, it would explain some of the darker rumors I’d heard...

Done, Gifted. Advancement complete.

Grace charged to level five. New abilities are available for selection.

You are now a class 10 bloodborn. You have advanced to tier 1!

Congratulations, Gifted. You have evolved from a bloodsucker to a fledgling blood. Your thirst for blood has lessened, increasing the maximum interval between your feeds to 12 hours.

Blood craze trait modified. New class traits are available for selection.

My head jerked up at the new messages.

I’d almost forgotten about the class evolutions that occurred every ten levels, and the change to my blood crazed trait was a welcome surprise. If my negative traits kept reducing every tier, then maybe, just maybe, I would survive my new existence.

I bent down and snatched the keys to the exit from Bear’s belt. None of that was important right now, though. The way out of the testing facility was open. And it was almost time to leave.

I smiled to myself. I was nearly free of the Gifted’s clutches. And no matter what happened in the future, I was determined to remain that way.

Even if it means I must take on the emperor himself.

~~~

Here ends the first story in the Chronicles of the Fallen.