Aurelia
Jeremy dashed to the table at my command, swiftly clearing it with a sweep of his arm—maps and all scattering to the ground. Immediately after, Anlyth gently laid the dying Sophia on the now bare surface. As I glanced over, the severity of her condition was starkly apparent—the gaping wound in her chest and the necrotic poison visibly spreading through her veins, blackening them as it spread.
I shot a scathing look at my love’s supposed champion, suspecting the Slaethians had crafted this poison specifically for her, but held my tongue.
Sophia’s condition was dire, and while part of me felt it might be simpler to let her spirit pass as I might with another, she was different. Like me, she was a soul from Earth, forcibly brought to this magical realm and thrust into a body not her own. My bond with her and others summoned from Earth was far deeper than with any vampire—well, except for the two who had fled here, whose whereabouts remained a mystery, though spy reports had last placed them within the Kingdom of Slaethia. Regardless, I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her perish here.
As I saw it, I had only one option to save her life, something I had never done before, and the implications afterward would undoubtedly stir a hell-storm of consequences among the coven. “To hell with them,” I thought as I placed my hand beneath the dying human’s neck, lifting her just enough to arch it, exposing the veins to me. If the old vampires had issues with what I was about to do, they could challenge me. After all, one law held true amongst all vampires: those with power make the rules, and power was something I had in abundance.
My lips parted as I leaned toward her exposed neck, my fangs elongating in anticipation. The configuration and appearance of fangs vary across vampire lineages, influenced by both the progenitor and the species being turned. Mine are the classic upper and lower canines—long and sharp. However, referring to them merely as ‘canines’ might earn a swift death from any self-respecting vampire. Then there’s Vorigan, whose mouth is filled with razor-sharp fish teeth, a look less intimidating than it sounds. A coven, therefore, might display a diverse array of fang styles, each reflecting the unique evolutionary paths our kind has taken since our world arrived in this realm, shaped not by natural selection but by the turning of new and wondrously unusual species.
As my fangs sank into Sophia’s neck, her body instinctively tensed, even in unconsciousness. The metallic taste of her blood filled my mouth, laced with the necrotic poison which, rather than being harmful, added a tangy flavor that I found surprisingly pleasant—certainly more so than the vegan diet I’d been imposing on the vampires. In retrospect, forcing that diet might be the most diabolical thing I’ve ever done.
Pulling away from Sophia, I studied her for a moment before drawing my own wrist to my lips and biting down hard, piercing the skin. As my blood welled up, I quickly pressed my wrist against her lips, allowing my blood to pool in her mouth before the wound could heal. I had witnessed this transformation process only a few times; it often resulted in the creation of a soulless, feral vampire. Though such creatures had their uses, I did not anticipate that outcome here. From what I’d observed—both in myself, my love, and other Earthlings—the souls from Earth were extraordinarily powerful.
Within moments, Sophia’s chest wound healed before my eyes. I leaned down once more, both to adjust the fabric of her robe—concealing her reforming breast—and to whisper into her ear, “Arise, my childe, and be reborn.”
~
Darkness enveloped Sophia as her dream of the Crone dissolved into nothingness. Like most dreams, its details faded along with it. Yet, a singular imperative clung to the fringes of her consciousness. Most of the words were gone, but what remained echoed with monumental importance: “Go. Save. Your. Nightmares!” As she awakened, her senses sharpened, and she let out a gasp, feeling her canines extend with her breath.
However, what surprised Sophia the most wasn’t the changes she felt in her body but the system notification that appeared before her eyes.
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System Notification
Your Race Has Been Converted to Vampire!
New Title Awarded
Guardian of Nightmares
Blake
Phantasmal Mist wafted out from me until I had nothing left—well, until the system mana ran dry. Thankfully, not all my spells required it, or I’d be utterly screwed. But I was pretty sure I had filled the entire small valley with mist—definitely worth it. It was a pity the city above was on a mesa; otherwise, I’d have liked to cover that too. Now, all I needed to do was take out that flaming bitch, and thankfully, I had my fire ward.
Umm… Nightmare, we don’t have any system mana left to cast the ward.
…
I sighed as I stared at my hand, which resembled a skeletal zombie more than anything else. It was mostly bones, formed from silk, with patches of black tendrils woven around them like muscle fibers. Sure, I could ditch the bones and reshape what remained of my pudding body, but there wasn’t much left to craft anything impressive. And I didn’t want to look like a gnome, so a rotting skeleton it was! However, that wasn’t what truly caught my attention. Nope. What mesmerized me were the flickering ripples of orange lightning that coursed all around me, which I had dubbed Necro Blightning.
Dream, that’s a terrible name.
But it’s catchy!
No, it’s not.
What if we drop the Necro and keep just Blightning? You know, a combination of blight and lightning, Blightning!
Yeah, I got it. Still, it’s a hell no!
Screw you, Nightmare, I’m keeping it.
I extended my hand, feeling the power surge around me. My Blightning spell instinctively responded to my will and shot out through the mist. Despite the dense shroud of my spell that enveloped everything, I could see through it as if it weren’t there at all—clearly aiming my spell directly at the dragon lady.
A smile stretched across my face as the spell struck her like a whip, arcs of lightning causing her muscles to spasm as she narrowed her eyes in my direction. I knew she couldn’t see me through the mist, but that didn’t stop me from running, tripping over myself in a frantic attempt to start flying again. Just in time, too, as her mouth opened to exhale a wave of fire at the spot where I had just been standing.
Phantasmal Mist was one of those spells I wasn’t entirely sure about, other than it made people see some crazy stuff while inside it. Were those trapped within it seeing ghosts or lost spirits? Maybe it was showing them their worst nightmares—if I had to guess, I’d pick that option. Either way, it was a skill all about mental manipulation, but I was really, really hoping I could eventually warp it into something more useful. Because right now, it was doing absolutely dick against that flaming psycho!
I zapped the woman a few more times with my Blightning, stumbling and falling as I ran, concealed within the mist—thankfully, the skill at least managed that much. However, flying had become significantly harder than before, which was total bullshit.
I think we’re overthinking it.
What?
Don’t think, just do. Or some shit like that.
I have no clue what you’re talking about, Dream.
We just did it when we were manipulating gravity earlier without the system. Now, we’re trying to do it.
So, we should stop trying to do it?
Yeah!
That makes utterly no sense.
A large shadow glided across the ground, pulling my gaze skyward. There, cutting through the clouds, was a familiar behemoth of an airship barreling towards the still-descending airfleet at the city’s edge. Its cannons roared to life, hurling bursts of magical artillery that blossomed into fiery chaos among the enemy vessels. A rueful sigh escaped me as the realization hit—I was probably watching Nikola’s last stand. “I really liked that airship, too.”
Despite the mist shrouding everything below, the dragon lady seemed to notice the airship overhead—if her upward gaze and wings stretched wide were any indication.
“Shit,” I muttered as she launched herself skyward, hurtling toward Nikola’s vessel on a collision course. “Wait, no, that’s my airship!”
With no real strategy in mind, I acted on pure instinct, akin to hopping back onto a bike after years without touching one. Oddly, it felt just like that—familiar yet exhilarating. Instinctively, I manipulated gravity around me, propelling myself off the ground with explosive speed straight toward Orlaith—I knew her real name, of course, I’m quite good at remembering names, I just choose not to use them. As if I were a hockey player, I checked her in the gut with my bony shoulder, resulting in a resonant boom.
Regrettably, the few tendrils of pudding holding my shoulder to my body snapped, sending my arm flying off in another direction. Despite this, the dragon lady and I tumbled through the sky and back toward the shroud of mist below. I laughed hysterically the whole way down while she cursed, swore, and spit fire in fury.