Chapter 15
The Slow Grind Of The Inevitable
Ancient vampires are accustomed to solving their problems with ease the way birds are accustomed to flying away from threats. We are remorseless. We are cunning. And we possess a physique that makes us an apex predator in any environment. Few problems cannot be solved with such advantages.
I had grown accustomed to being able to solve my problems with ease, but there were no more shortcuts for healing Kathrine. My healing palm technique was slightly more efficient from visiting the Abyss, but the day I spent strengthening my soul with the lifeforce of monsters wasn’t worth the minor gains I received. I’d wrongfully assumed hunting in the Abyss would help Kathrine’s recovery, but based on the results hunting would do the opposite.
Eleven days after returning, Sir Trent sat on my training hall floor checking the slab of metal he called a sword for any damage cutting me apart might have caused it. The smile he wore as he caught his breath and ran his fingers over the blade suggested he’d leveled one of his skills. When he was sure I hadn’t damaged his precious weapon, he placed the palm wide blade beside him and leaned back to relax, looking at the ceiling.
A moment later, he turned to me. “The simplicity of your oath is insidious.”
Everyone who had taken my oath considered it to be a boon. There were drawbacks to the oath, but I’d never heard anyone describe it as insidious.
“In what way is my oath insidious?”
He returned to staring at the ceiling. “I turn sixty-eight this winter. I’m a knight of the first order, level 163, and I have mastered more skills than any other knight in Arcadia. I don’t feel my age, but until I took your oath, I was content. Now every day, I remember the men and women who trained me. Knights who had leveled past 200 and become Dragons, inside of Old Monsters. Knights who could defeat me as easily as you could. Your oath pushes me to become like them, so I can make the world safe for my children. I don’t even have children.”
This seemed like a problem that was unique to Sir Trent and the reason was obvious to me. “You’re fighting my oath, aren’t you?”
“I don’t like being told what to do.”
I chuckled, amused by his problem and discomfort.
“Why’s that funny?”
“The oath you gave isn’t pushing you to become stronger, you are. You’re a brilliant teacher, but you know deep down that you’re a better fighter.”
“You would say that.”
“Humans are goal orientated beings. When our goal is big and important enough, our entire life and focus revolves around achieving this goal. The things that don’t help us achieve our goal get left behind, and anything that help us achieve it is noticed faster. It obvious to me that those who take my oath, accept my goal, and make it their own. How they go about achieving my goal is base upon how they believe they are most effective. My oath isn’t doing anything to you that is insidious. You’re just recognising how you can best accomplish the new goal you’ve committed your life to.”
My comment seemed to annoy him because he changed the subject. “Which combat skills do you have left to train?”
I had done what was right and helped him with his problem, but I didn’t care if he continued to suffer, so I let him change the subject. “I only have active skills which you can help me with. Impale, heavy blow, and cleave. I’ve mastered the rest of my nonmagical combat skills.”
He turned to me and frowned. “Cleave isn’t normally an active skill.”
He was right.
Cleave was an advanced skill that made you use the correct technique to cut through your enemy, so your weapon didn’t get stuck in their body. It tended to make warriors more lethal and was one of the easier skills to master. The fact that I hadn’t leveled the skill at all while I was in the Abyss pointed to it being the active version of the skill.
Active versions of normal skills were rare. They had the same name as their underlying skill, but they could do what the original version of the skill could do and more. You could also only level the skill through using the active technique.
“Cleave should have leveled when I went to the Abyss, but it didn’t. The only reasonable answer is that it’s the active version of the skill.”
“If it didn’t level, you’re probably right.”
Sir Trent’s breathing had returned to normal.
“Are you ready to spar again?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t adapt as quickly to the changes as you do. I need to meditate on how leveling my skill has changed me before sparring again. We’ll work on developing your aura for now.”
He held out his hand and one of the wooden training swords on the nearby crate flew toward him. He jumped to his feet while it was in flight, caught the weapon, and waved for me to follow him.
We walked over to the wooden training pole that I’d set up earlier. It was a regular wooden pole rather than one of the enchanted ones, so it wouldn’t produce a barrier.
Sir Trent placed the tip of the wooden sword against the pole and gently pushed. Without any pressure, the wood parted around the tip of the blade, and the training sword went halfway through before stopping. He let go of the training weapon, leaving it lodged in the pole, and turned to me.
“When our attributes go beyond what our physical body can achieve, the nature of our existence changes. We become more than a being with just a body and soul. We become beings that possess an aura. Aura is a force that reinforces our existence and takes us beyond our physical limits. The strength of our aura is a manifestation our excess attributes. Like our attributes, we cannot push beyond this limit, only harness its full potential.”
“I know all this.”
Sir Trent ignored me. “When we harness and use our aura, the effect our aura has on our attributes weakens. This makes active skills dangerous as they lower your attributes to your physical limit which leaves you vulnerable. So, learning how to use active skills is not half as important as learning when to use them. Any questions?”
“You forgot to mention that a portion of our aura isn’t used to enhance our attributes and that mastering active skills allows us to use this portion without effecting our strength and is what makes mastering active skills so important.”
“That wasn’t a question and I was going to mention that in lesson two.”
“I won’t need a lesson two.”
He sighed and pointed to the wooden blade in the training pole. “Grab the handle and I’ll use my aura to show you how to harness your aura.”
I took a step closer and grabbed the handle. Sir Trent placed his massive hand over mine and I felt his aura invade my body. I made sure not to resist, so he could work more effectively. Over the next few minutes, I slowly grew weaker as my aura was forcefully drawn from my body and directed into the sword. While this happened, Sir Trent held my hand in place so the blade wouldn’t move forward and complete the skill.
I paid attention to the way everything felt. How my aura moved through my body and how it changed as it passed through my skin into the sword. The only reason I couldn’t do this alone was that my vampiric aura blended so seamlessly with my aura that I couldn’t differentiate between the two. Sir Trent couldn’t sense my vampiric aura, so he didn’t have this problem. My aura was as clear to him as his own and it let him manipulate it when I couldn’t.
When my aura had been entirely moved into the blade, Sir Trent allowed my hand to slowly move forward. The wooden blade drilled through the pole like it was soft butter, having almost no resistance. He let go when the hilt reached the pole.
“How much of that could you feel?”
“All of it.”
Sir Trent raised an eyebrow. “All of it?”
“All of it,” I repeated.
He stepped back and summoned another wooden sword. He passed me the blade. “Show me.”
I placed the tip of the blade against the pole and pushed my aura through the handle willing my aura to impale the pole. I felt myself grow weaker as I held tight, stopping the sword from moving forward. As my attributes dropped, so did my ability to perceive what I was doing. When I reached the point where my perception had dropped so much that I couldn’t sense my aura clearly and direct it into the blade the way I wanted, I stopped holding the sword back.
The blade slammed through the pole. My aura shot across the room and struck the barrier protecting the wall. There was a loud cracked as it drilled through the barrier and damaged the wall behind. Active skills were the sort of attacks you would see in Chinese martial arts movies. They were also the reason high level warriors could keep up with high level sorcerers.
A notification appeared.
Your Impale skill has increased to level 16.
Sir Trent turned to the small hole in the wall and scowled. “Did you just master an active skill with a single thrust?”
“No. I got to level 16. This one will let me master it.”
I pulled the blade free and impaled the pole a second time, much faster and more easily than before. The barrier cracked louder this time as a notification appeared.
You have mastered your Impale skill.
I pulled my fist back and punched the pole, slamming my aura into it. The pole exploded as the weight of a logging truck collided with it. Another notification appeared.
You have mastered your Heavy Blow skill.
Sir Trent continued to scowl. “Why did you bother getting my help if it was this simple for you?”
“You’ve mastered the instructor, weapons instructor, and impale skills, so you’re able to manipulate someone else’s aura much more effectively than most and guide them through the process. With my perception, cunning, prodigy skill, and instinctive knowledge of how to use my vampiric aura, I can master these skills in moments instead of years, but only with your help.”
I turned, drew Slaughter, and swung, directing my aura into my weapon. A blade of aura, exploded from the edge, and struck the barrier. The barrier barely stopped it from going through. Another notification appeared.
You have mastered the Cleave skill.
Sir Trent held out his hand summoning his sword to him. “I suddenly feel like cutting you again.”
***
Luke walked around my classroom handing out instructions for the Undead Enhancement Club. People had been commenting on his absence, so I was making sure he was seen more often.
Angelica sat in the front row, chatting with Lidia, and reading the instructions, everyone was being given. The undead Angelica created were weaker than the undead everyone else created, but she knew a lot more about fighting than anyone else and could program that knowledge into her creations. She’d shown everyone why they needed to expand their skillset, as her undead regularly won fights against stronger opponents.
Luke finished handing out the instructions and placed the rest of the handouts on my desk. Then he left the classroom, heading upstairs for his lesson with Carolyn.
I climbed to my feet and immediately had the entire rooms attention. It was part fear and part respect that made them all react so quickly. I found both appealing.
“Can anyone tell me why you don’t find undead outside of places with high concentrations of death magic?”
Baris raised his hand. “Mindless undead can’t convert raw mana into death mana which means they can’t gather mana from an environment that’s not corrupted by death magic. Outside of these environments, they’re constantly consuming the mana that holds them together and fall apart before most people come across them.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Correct.” I opened the top draw of my desk and held up the bone orb I’d prepared for this lecture. “This is called a false core. It allows undead warriors to gather mana in any environment. Why was crafting it a waste of my time?”
A young woman in the back row raised her hand. “They’re not very efficient.”
“That’s not entirely true. False cores will allow an undead warrior to walk around indefinitely. If they stay still, they can even recover their mana.”
Baris raised his hand. “They’re difficult to make in large quantities.”
“That’s only true if you planning to make thousands of them. The reason this false core was a waste of my time is that recharging the mana of undead warriors is more easily done with a mana concentration circle. A mana concentration circle is faster to make, cheaper, and more effective than false cores. False cores are a novelty unskilled necromancers created to amuse their egos.”
The same young woman raised her hand. “But what if you were sending them away from you?”
“Then I’d send them with an undead sorcerer. A sorcerer would construct a mana concentration circle when necessary, allowing them to continue indefinitely.”
“What if your sorcerer was destroyed?”
“Then the undead I sent away would be destroyed.”
“Isn’t that wasteful?”
“No. The materials used to make a false core cost practically as much as the undead warrior you place it in. This makes it more cost effective to make advanced undead warriors, because they can gather mana from any environment, and are significantly stronger than an undead warrior.” I put the false core on my desk. “Unskilled necromancers have created hundreds of enhancement techniques to overcome their inability to create advanced undead warriors, like sorcerers and death knights. Most of these techniques aren’t worth learning because they’re designed to mimic what advanced undead warriors are naturally capable of. I know you’ve been complaining that I’m not teaching you any of these techniques but teaching you these techniques is a waste of your time and mine.”
Baris raised his hand. “Will you teach us these techniques eventually?”
“No. Once you can create advanced undead warriors properly, you’ll be able to learn these techniques yourself. So today I will teach you which techniques are useful, and which will be a waste of your time.”
I took control of the chalk with a spell and began my lecture proper. Too many people had been complaining about the lack of diversity in my lessons, so I’d decided to explain why I wasn’t bothering with teaching them more techniques. I was planning to use the Undead Enhancement Club as a template for teaching Gregory and his people how to build an undead army, and they were likely to raise this same question, so I needed to come up with an effective answer now to save me the trouble later.
A few hours later, the necromancers filed out of the room, unhappy but well informed. A few minutes after that, Carolyn left with her guards.
Luke came down as I was cleaning the chalkboard. He smelled annoyed as he looked around the empty classroom and sighed. He was unhappy about something.
“What’s bothering you?” I asked.
He stared at me for several seconds. “Do you notice when women are flirting with you?”
“I notice. I just don’t care.”
“You don’t care?”
“I don’t care.”
His shoulders relaxed. “That makes sense.”
“Why was that bothering you?”
“I left you with a room full of college girls that all wanted to be the teacher’s pet and you had zero interest. It’s weird. I know you’ve said you’re not a sexual being, but Data has more of a libido than you do. Be honest with me Old Man, does the plumbing in your house still work?”
“Vampires don’t use their plumbing for procreation, so a libido isn’t necessary.”
He cringed. “I didn’t actually want you to answer that.”
“Everything below the belt might as well be a Ken doll.”
“Please stop.”
“Expect when I think of your mother.”
Luke shoved his fingers into his ears. “Lalalalalala.”
I chuckled.
***
Dalin, the head of the infirmary, sat in an armchair beside me while I healed Kathrine’s soul and worked my way through Arcadia’s Royal Northern Library. He hadn’t visited nearly as often since help had arrived, but he still stopped by once a week. He was genuinely worried for my daughter’s health and my familiars’ safety, which was why he kept coming.
Unlike him, Riza now visited more often. Having the necrosaint around made her feel safer when she was around me. She’d even gone to Mother on multiple occasions for moral guidance.
Dalin watched Davina, as she sat on the couch in the corner of the bedroom. He was deep in thought. “Why did you make the necrosaint your familiar?”
“She was my familiar before she became the necrosaint. I offered to release her, but she chose to stay.”
“May I ask why?”
“She said heaven had no problem making her a saint while she was my familiar, so she had no problem remaining one.”
He frowned and raised his voice. “Davina, do you have the evil eye skill?”
She looked up from her book and shook her head. “I know a good man when I see one, and his Dark Eminence is a good man. But if you need reassuring, someone who does have that skill has told me he is favoured by heaven.”
Learning that I was favoured by heaven meant absolutely nothing to me, but the demon within me shuddered with disgust.
Delin frowned. “Do you know why he’s favoured?”
“His capacity to do good is limited. Yet his Dark Eminence exceeds this capacity at every opportunity.”
“In what way?”
“He sits beside you healing his daughter while every instinct tells him to tear into her with his teeth. He’s suffering in silence, without complaint, so he can help and do good, and very few understand what this truly means to fight that sort of temptation.”
Dalin folded his arms and considered her words. “Why are you trying to help him?”
Davina turned back to her book. “Because the people who should be, aren’t.”
***
Davina sat in an armchair beside the bed ready to teach me death magic. Yesterday, she’d made me perform ever death magic spell I knew to get a feel for what I was doing wrong. She’d then gone away to meditate on what she had seen. It had clearly confused her.
She finished straightened her dress and leaned back. “Do you understand the emotional influence principle, your Dark Eminence?”
“I would have said yes, but since you’re bringing it up, I must not understand it as well as I think I do.”
“Magic is influences by emotions. Without emotions magic produces consistent results. With emotions magic produces inconsistent results. Magic with emotional enhancement is stronger than magic without, but it’s also unpredictable.”
That was the standard explanation for the principle. “I’m aware of everything you’ve said so far.”
“Are you aware of anything I’ve missed?”
“Nothing I would consider relevant.”
“Good, then my theory is most likely correct. As far as I can tell, you’re doing exactly what any professional sorcerer would do when casting a spell. You’re purging yourself of emotion, maintaining a calm mind, and weaving the spell correctly. The problem is you’re emotional control is letting your demonic parasites emotions influence your spells. Death and life magic is more sensitive to emotion than elemental magic, and you’re more attuned to death magic than any normal person would be. I was wrong with my earlier assessment. You’re doing everything correctly. The problem is the correct method doesn’t work for you.”
“There shouldn’t be any emotional interference from my demonic parasites. Even my natural affinity wouldn’t be powerful enough to make me that sensitive to death magic.”
“I don’t think this issue stems from just your nature, your Dark Eminence. I think this is related to how you formed your core and mana network. You used liquid mana. You mastered skills you shouldn’t have mastered. This instability and emotional sensitivity might be the results.”
“If you’re correct, I’ll have to learn to wield all magic with emotion.”
Davina nodded and reached for my hand.
I pulled it away before she could take it.
She sighed and went back to what she was saying. “It’s almost impossible for a human to learn how to wield death or necrotic magic influenced by emotions safely, but the good news is you’re not human. And I don’t believe there is a death magic spell powerful enough to kill you.”
“Physical danger is not the only issue. We also have to consider the time involved. Your mother’s transformation into a lich caused her to have obsessive tendencies which ruined her emotional control and with it went her ability to wield death magic properly. It took her two centuries to regain her old capabilities. The only reason I’m even considering this is because once she regained her abilities, she was much more powerful.”
“My mother was exceptionally talented with death magic. It would take a normal person much longer, but once again you’re not a normal person. I expect you could master this ability much faster than she did.”
I turned to Davina, surprised by her assessment of her mother. “You think you mother was talented?”
She nodded. “She was powerful enough make armies tremble and rulers turn a blind eye to her existence.”
“Your mother was an average necromancer who became exceptionally powerful due to a very long life. Her earlier diaries speak of her mediocre abilities. She had none of your talent.”
Davina paused. “I didn’t know that. In all my memories, she was always a master necromancer, capable of feats none of her minions could replicate.”
“Your mother was once just an angry young woman obsessed and in love with a man who didn’t love her back. That obsession led to her becoming a creature that could threaten nations. People overlook how much hard work and drive play a part in other people’s success. They see the results and call it talent, unwilling to accept that the other person worked harder than they did and took risks they weren’t willing to take. Don’t make that mistake.”
“Yes, your Dark Eminence.”
“Was that sarcasm?”
She smirked. “No, your Dark Eminence.”
“Is this because I didn’t let you hold my hand?”
Her smirk grew. “No, your Dark Eminence.”
I held out my hand.
She quickly took it and smiled, content with a comforting touch.
Her mother had never held her hand and I had a suspicion that I was the first person she had ever hugged for comfort. Even before she became the necrosaint, Davina seemed to have the ability to sense people’s nature, and I was sure she had hugged Angelica to comfort her, not to receive comfort.
I didn’t want to encourage her attachment to me, because she might one day hesitate to kill me, but she seemed to get her way more often than I liked. She was far too skilled at passive resistance.
“Do you know how my mother mastered wielding her emotions?”
“She studied how her emotions influenced her spells and would adjust the mana flow to her spells to suit her emotional state when she cast the spell. She also changed the timing of the spell sequence and almost every other variable that comes with casting a spell correctly.”
“That sounds complicated. Can you recreate those sections of her diaries so I can read them?”
“Do you want me to include the calculations?”
“Only if you want me to help you.”
“You’re being sarcastic again.”
“Yes, your Dark Eminence.”
***
Cunning was without a doubt my most useful attribute. It allowed my brain to process unimaginable amounts of data and correct my mistakes even as I made them. It was what made it possible for me to master skills in a night and unravel the actions of my opponents before they made them. Experiments and insights that took Contessa decades to achieve were completed in days as I fundamentally changed the way I cast spells.
What had taken Contessa 158 years took me nineteen days, because a motivated ancient vampire was a walking calamity. Contessa’s meticulous notes might have also helped.
Davina watched me from the side of the training hall as I perform the new version of the death bolt spell.
Hunger and an unrestrained need for destruction filled me as black energy exploded from my palm in a howling orb of darkness. It slammed into the barrier around the training pole, turning the barrier a brighter shade of blue as it buckled under the pressure.
Death magic when used in offensive spells was a decaying and draining energy. It weakened everything it touched, drawing away its strength while making it rot.
Some of the magic in the barrier was pulled into the orb, which destabilised the spell formation, and allow the orb’s other destructive energies to accelerate the barrier’s decay. The barrier crumbled and the orb burst across the wooden pole, ageing it centuries in an instant.
The wood rotted away becoming crumbled powder, as the spells uncontrolled energies washed over the second barrier that protected the training hall.
I took control of my emotions and restrained the monstrous impulses I’d released. Over the past few weeks, I’d become intimately familiar with the emotions the demon in me could stir up. They were dark and dangerous and would see the world burned down to its foundation if I ever lost control. Releasing them and then restraining them again had helped me gain a little more control over my hunger. I still salivated over the smell of blood, but I no longer unconsciously turned my head to follow people while they were walking by.
Half a second after I’d released the spell, I was back to myself and in full control of my emotions.
I turned to Davina as the blue glow faded from her eyes. “I’m in complete control of my magic while in an emotional state.”
Davina walked over to what was left of the training pole, crouched, and passed her fingers through the powder, absorbing the traced of death magic that were left behind. She closed her eyes feeling the magic as her body digested it.
“This doesn’t feel like you’re in control, your Dark Eminence. I know what my mother’s death magic felt like. It was a smooth constant pull that sucked the life from everything it touched and replace it with decay. This is jittery and jarring, like someone tugging on a rope.”
“Could it be because I’m a vampire and she was a lich?”
“I don’t think so. My mother isn’t the only abomination I’ve met whose death magic was laced with emotion. She had dozens of guests over the centuries and would bring me out to try to trade me for something she wanted. You’re magic reminds me more of theirs than hers. You’re getting closer, but you’re not there yet.”
***
Several weeks later, Davina ran her fingers through another pile of decayed wood and finally smiled. She rose to her feet and turned to me. “You’re death magic reminds me of my mother’s now.”
That was good news. I was getting questions about why I was destroying a dozen training poles each day. There wasn’t a limit on how many you could requisition, but the headmaster was beginning to rethink this rule.
“You may begin teaching me when you’re ready.”
Davina shook her head. “I want you to craft a shade to the best of your abilities before I teach you anything.”
Shades were a ghost crafted from death magic and an imprint of your soul. Creating one properly required you to damage you soul, but it left you with an autonomous minion with your intelligence and knowledge. The shade wanted what you wanted, knew what you knew, and only existed to fulfil these want. It wasn’t you though. It didn’t have your emotions. It was a cold and sterile creature which could make it incredibly dangerous, especially if I used all of my skills to craft it.
Shades were mostly used to spy on others.
They weren’t particularly good at it though. Any of the teachers would be able to see it and along with the more skilled students. However, if I made it to the best of my abilities, it would be able to do much more than just spy on people. It would be able to interact with the world around it. It would also feed on more of my lifeforce to sustain itself.
“Why do you want me to craft a shade?”
“Shades are imprinted with your intelligence and knowledge, but not your emotions. If you’re in complete control of how emotions effect your death magic, then your shade will behave normally. If you’re not, it will exhibit odd behaviours. These past few weeks, I’ve been thinking about how to test if you’ve mastered harnessing your emotions for practicing magic and I believe this is the most effective way to do so. It’s not the safest way, but it is the most effective way, and you need the most effective way more than you need the safest, since you want to practice master tier magic.”
Master tier magic was on an entirely different level to expert magic. If I hadn’t harnessed my emotions as well as I thought I had, I could destroy Darksmith and my son and daughter with it. Testing to see if I was as good as I thought I was before moving on was something I could accept.
“In that case, I’m going to need to read the rest of your mother’s library.”