NOVEL NEXT 315. Sahro Belmont
Sahro drew a deep, long breath, red lightning crackling all over his skin and purifying the surrounding area. There was a reddish smoke that permeated the room, but the longer Sahro stood there, the more it cleared out. Raijin rubbed his head against his cheek, squealing happily.
The Black Heir frowned, disgusted. A few dozen vampires were staring at him, most, if not all of them butt-naked. He almost let out a snort at the sight of Duchess Sorena, who was lying down with all of her blood drained and a delighted expression on her face. Count Adrastos, the annoying vampire from earlier, was staring at him in awe and fury. Milena was standing next to him, her eyes cold and calculating. Her pair of robotic arms were out, gleaming intensely.
"Mi—"
He barely got the time to open his mouth before Milena's robotic arms turned into some sort of spinning, dented wheels. Adrastos turned at the sound, an opportunity Sahro wasn't going to miss. Thunder rumbled as he charged forward, his curved sword covered in Primal Aura. His blade fell on the Count's neck, when hundreds of blood crystals surged in front of him and stopped the attack, barely.
Sahro's head snapped to the side at the frolicking vampires. The debauchery was over, and judging from their expression, they were not appreciating that. Adrastos clenched Milena's neck and raised her in the air, furious.
"What have you done, mortal?! I was going to make you one of us, a servant to the great Nosferatu, and you betray me?!" He disregarded the spinning saw blades as they carved through his skin, the wounds repairing themselves almost instantly. He looked stronger than Countess Dilana by an entire stage, despite his equal title. But Sahro wasn't too worried. He had fought Newborn Rulers before, after all. A pseudo Archmagi or Saint didn't scare him.
After all, the Black Heir was already beyond a Saint, even if still below a Newborn Ruler.
Milena didn't reply, instead turning her saw blade to the real problem: the Blumar cuffs restraining her wrists. The pair of spinning saws shrieked as they made contact with the mystical material, weakening it. Adrastos's eyes widened in disbelief. He shook his head, and blood erupted from the ground, transforming into a perfect ruby rapier. He was about to thrust its tip into Milena's chest when Sahro overcame the other vampires' defenses and delivered an incredibly well-executed double kick straight into the Count's sternum.
Crimson lightning exploded once again as the vampire flew through the underground room, his chest caved open and spasming uncontrollably from the residual electricity. Milena rolled to the side, finally freed from the vampire Count's grasp. Her saw blades redoubled their efforts, desperately trying to free her from the Blumar.
"W-What i-is t-this?!" Adrastos coughed, staring at his chest in horror. His flesh and mangled bones tried to mend themselves, but the Black Heir's Primal Aura made it impossible, further destroying any hopes of regeneration. Adrastos cursed and carved a bowling-ball-sized hole in his chest, cutting away the part affected and throwing it away. Blood rose from the floor to fill the gap, new flesh and organs growing back like nothing had happened.
"You're a little tougher than your friend," noted Sahro as he brushed the dust off his shoulders. Primal Aura covered every inch of his body, protecting even his clothes from harm. He looked as regal as when he first put a step into that disgusting ballroom, his dark-gray, gold-encrusted mantle fluttering heroically. Raijin walked through his master's legs, his tiny slitted eyes spying on the Count for any opportunity to get a bite in.
"My friend?" Adrastos's eyes filled with fury as he realized. "What have you done to Dilana?!"
Sahro looked at his fox and back at the vampire, grimacing. "Fed it to my fox."
Blood seeped out of the vampire's lips as he clenched his fangs tightly. He held his rapier before him into a mastered stance, leaving no openings. Sahro's jeer disappeared, replaced by primal animosity and tension. His muscles hardened as his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword with just the right amount of strength. Adrastos' fellow vampires were about to jump into the fight when dust fell with the ceiling shaking dangerously.
Both of the combatants couldn't care less; their entire concentration focused on their opponents. Adrastos made the first move, his black leather-clad boots lifting off the floor lightly as he thrust his rapier precisely for Sahro's eyes. The Black Heir didn't blink as he leaned to the side, letting the blade slip on his defenses. His Primal Aura trembled from the blow but held on, fueled by his determination. He brought his sword up in an upward motion, sending a devastating bolt of lightning through the room. The ground carved open as Pebble suddenly fell into the room, his one eye blinking excitedly. Sahro's attack went right beside the dragon and destroyed the ceiling, piercing through dozens of meters thick with stone and dirt to reveal the starry night.
Moonlight replaced the red hue from the ominous blood-colored torches as Sahro and Adrastos continued their dance of steel and pain. Adrastos pierced through Sahro's defence, stabbing his rapier in the Black Heir's stomach, while the latter thrust his fist into his enemy's face. Adrastos screamed — or at least tried to — as Primal lightning ravaged his face.
"Oh, this smells like dick in here," a familiar voice said as it entered the room. "Sahro? How the hell did you come here before us?"
The Black Heir grinned at Glenn's confusion and refused to reply, choosing instead to chase Adrastos. The other vampires tried to get in his way, but a flying spear and sword stood in their way, alongside an annoying, grinning man with a purple hand. Liara stood beside him, her expression hardened and ready.
"Nuh-uh, you're playing with us now," Glenn cackled wickedly as his Mana washed over the collapsing subterranean room, making debris, weaker vampires, and... drained corpses float in a macabre assembly. The world seemed to shiver at his power, eager to see what changes he would bring.
Sahro ignored all of that and struck his blade into the Count's chest once again, discharging his Primal Aura into the vampire. The crimson electricity charred the bloodsucker to death. He was soon reduced to a pitiful pool of blood. It'd been a rather disappointing end for someone who'd supposedly mastered his arts.
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'I think he relied too heavily on his vampiric powers,' realized Sahro. 'Blows he could have avoided were met with ignorance, until the realization that my Primal Aura was mortal dawned upon him. A little too late, though. Maybe next time, I'll tell them before fighting to get some sort of challenge. This sucked.'
The Black Heir looked in disappointment as Raijin licked the blood puddle off the floor, feasting on his enemy's 'remains'. A muffled cry for help made him turn his head just in time to witness Glenn conjuring an ocean of ice over the vampires, while Liara's wings of light carried her through the battlefield, helping her reap undead lives one after the other.
Sahro shook his head and turned to help his friends when Raijin yelped in distress. A blood-red crystal struck him through the throat as the puddle fled through the stone bricks.
"Raijin!" Sahro rushed to his tiny companion's help, his eyes going over the wound in a panic. The fox squealed a weak apology before disappearing in a myriad of scarlet particles. Sahro felt his heart stop and almost cried in pain, but a feeling in his Aura Core stopped him from doing so. He closed his eyes for an instant and quickly entered a Meditative state, checking on his soul. Raijin was nestled close to the ball of red lightning that fueled his Primal Aura, resting.
Relief washed over the Black Heir as he gave a gentle pat over the fox's head, who sighed sadly.
"Don't worry, Raijin. I'll get that ruh sayiya for you," he swore. The fox nodded at him resolutely before closing his eyes. Sahro jumped out of his Meditation with a massive burst of Primal Aura, devastating lightning bolts reducing whatever was left of the room in ashes while carefully avoiding his allies. Glenn whistled, impressed, while Liara contented herself with simply watching while sheathing her weapons.
"A fine job, Sahro. Now, let's get Milena out of there and..." Glenn paused, his eyes searching through the rubble. "Wasn't she here a moment ago?"
Sahro blinked when Liara's foot suddenly made something rattle against the ground. She picked it up and grimaced, quickly throwing it away.
"Blumar," she said in distaste. Sahro stared at the shattered cuffs.
"Oh," he simply said.
***
Milena felt her mind being pushed to the limit, Exan's spine helping her break through all of her limits. Her Mana was rising through the roof, her robotic arms cleaving through every thrall on her path.
'Adrastos did not flee. He could have escaped through the ceiling, yet he did not. That means he either needs to recover something or has a better solution.' Her four hands moved too fast to see, touching foreheads and annihilating the weak remnants of mind behind them. The thralls moved slowly, each of their moves telegraphed and easy to read. She was carving a bloody path through the onslaught of mindless, low-ranked vampires, impeded. She grabbed a pair of daggers from a brain-dead thrall and continued her slaughter emotionlessly.
As planned, she arrived at the altar room, right where her mother had closed the deal, giving her daughter and herself to the vampires. Lily didn't get what she wanted, instead dying in the filthy vampiric pleasures, her blood sucked and sipped on like a vulgar wine, while she was fated for an even more morbid fate, sacrificed to a mythical figure that existed only in stories, Nosferatu.
Her calm, cold composure almost shattered as the smiling face of her dead mother surged back in her mind, but she pushed the feeling down and ignored it. That person had never been her mother. She was a monster, treating her sole child as expendable for a deadly, shady deal. Instead, she focused on the barely recomposed blob of flesh that bore the name of Adrastos crawling its way up the altar.
Milena stretched out her hand and pushed against the limits of her ability, forcing her mind into the vampire's. Hundreds of years of existence flowed into her head only to be discarded. Centuries spent on training the art of the blade, only to eventually get bored and instead enjoy the fresh taste of blood and debauchery like older vampires. Memories of times when power and the Highest Seat were seizable goals, not impossible dreams. Faded souvenirs of a lifetime of mortality, lost in hatred and revenge.
Milena destroyed the unending flow of memories, instead filtering the things that interested her. The vampire was weakened, and she refused to let that opportunity slip. She wanted to know everything. Why was she targeted, what did they need with her, even what the deal was with Nosferatu, everything.
She fell to her knee, and blood flowed out of her nose, the effort straining her seriously. Adrastos kept on crawling up the altar despite the pain of something digging through multiple lifetimes' worth of knowledge, searching for the most secret and critical information. The vampire blob ignored the torture, advancing relentlessly toward his goal. An arm surged out of the blob, unstable, and grabbed a small, pearly box by the altar.
Milena gasped, blood leaking out of her eyes and ears. Countless images were shoved into her mind as she gathered everything that interested her.
"The other Seats are growing in power..."
"We need a Lord to fight back against the mortals..."
"The other countries are getting impatient..."
"Nosferatu's been located..."
"We successfully fooled Duchess Sorena... The materials have been acquired discreetly, as planned..."
"The blood of the Dela Luna will be strong enough... Her daughter will accept the Embrace, I will make sure of it..."
"A new Lord is coming to us... We will regain our Seat at the Highest Table..."
"As expected, refusing the Thorn's Church and the Occult Wanderers' proposals was the right choice..."
She collapsed on her back, pulling her influence out of the vampire's mind. Adrastos groaned monstrously as he forced the pearly box open, taking out two syringes; one filled with the blood of a Corrupted Saint, and the other of a Corrupted Archmagi. Milena pushed herself up off the floor, the cool feeling from her spine still running through her veins. She aimed her fingers at Adrastos, her sight blurry and her movements shaky.
The young woman recalled the lessons with her father, the spell which she'd refused to use out of fear of being remarked by her mother. She had sealed these spells to grow her own, to get stronger with the Sorenas' magic and finally be free from her mother's oppression, to finally be loved by her.
She discarded all of those self-imposed limits.
"Dela Luna's Repository," Milena muttered, her Mana surging out powerfully. The ceiling cracked open, letting the twin moons' light shine upon her face. "First Moon: Judgement."
The world bent at her fingertips as she weaved the Mana expertly through motions practiced thousands of times. Adrastos's hand closed down on the syringes, shattering them. The blood flowed over the blob, Corruption spreading into the vampire like a wildfire in a dry forest.
But Milena's spell was complete.
The cracked ceiling bent impossibly, not breaking, not collapsing, but bent. The world itself seemed to fall on Adrastos, enclosing down on him. Shadows twisted and moved as illusions became reality, as dreams became palpable. Adrastos looked up in horror as everything disappeared around him, an intense pressure cast upon his flesh. Not a sound escaped from his mouth as Milena's spell disintegrated him, leaving nothing behind but a single drop of black, rotten blood.