Astarion’s gaze locked onto the end of the platform where a dark coffin, inlaid with sharp golden lines, lay ominously. Its surface pulsed with a sinister crimson energy, radiating waves of dread throughout the chamber.
With slow, deliberate steps, Astarion approached the coffin, the ground quaking beneath him .
He pried it open with a sharp, grating sound, the heavy lid resisting him before finally yielding. Inside, untouched and pristine, lay Cazador. His body was unharmed, his expression eerily peaceful, his eyes shut as if simply resting.
“No, no, no. No healing sleep for you,” Astarion snarled, reaching in to drag him out. But the moment his fingers neared Cazador’s form, a surge of crimson energy exploded from the coffin, slamming into him with brutal force and throwing him backward.
The entire platform illuminated with a pulsating, malevolent glow. Alex’s senses flared—something was coming. Something overwhelming.
The world warped and twisted around Astarion, and before he could react, he found himself standing beside Alex. A shimmering barrier formed between them just in time to absorb another pulse of crimson energy, its impact rattling the very foundations of the chamber. The walls trembled, dust and debris cascading down from unseen heights. The air itself grew thick, suffocating, as if reality bent under the immense power awakening before them.
Cazador’s body began to convulse violently, his frame wracked with spasms as thick tendrils of blood wove around him, swirling like a living storm. The surrounding shadows recoiled, twisting and shrieking as though tormented by some unseen agony. The oppressive force pressing down on them grew heavier, distorting the space around the coffin.
The blood cocooning Cazador began to evaporate, vanishing into a crimson mist that curled and dissipated into the void. When the transformation was complete, what remained was not the master vampire they had known—but something far worse.
He had grown taller, his frame broader, his presence an all-consuming force of raw, terrifying power. His once-dark hair had turned silvery-white, cascading down his back like liquid moonlight. His eyes—once cruel and piercing—now burned with a hellish intensity, glowing like twin suns drenched in blood, suffused with unholy wrath. His fangs, once a mere weapon of predation, had grown into jagged, monstrous lengths, protruding past his lips in grotesque dominance.
He no longer wore the tattered remnants of a master vampire—he adorned himself in regal nobility. A deep purple robe, inlaid with shimmering gold patterns, clung to his frame, exuding an aura of dark authority. Spectral chains of energy coiled around him, pulsing in rhythm with the malevolent force radiating from his very being. His clawed fingers flexed, the talons gleaming in the dim light, dripping with the promise of destruction.
The entire chamber seemed to groan under his presence, the stone beneath his feet cracking as though unable to bear his weight. The transformation was complete. Cazador had ceased to exist. What stood before them was a being of pure domination, a creature no longer bound by mortality, no longer a mere vampire—something older, something unstoppable.
The entity turned its burning gaze upon them and scoffed. The scepter that Cazador had wielded moments ago lifted from the ground, floating into his grasp with effortless grace.
“Finally,” the creature murmured, a dark smirk curling across its lips. “I will be free.”
Then, with a final surge of power, another pulse—greater than before—washed over them. The force of it shook the chamber violently, sending fractures spiraling across the platform. The ground rumbled, splitting apart as the center of the dais slowly opened.
From within the depths of the abyss, a colossal crimson crystal emerged, at least ten meters tall. Runes, ancient and pulsating with an eerie glow, covered its surface, shifting and flickering as if alive. Trapped within was a being—its form obscured by swirling darkness, but its features barely discernible.
A hulking, nightmarish figure loomed within the crystal, its silhouette monstrous. Large, bat-like wings lay folded against its back, its elongated arms ending in dagger-like claws. Its ears were long, tapering into razor-sharp points—longer than even the most ancient elves. Its body was skeletal and emaciated, yet the sheer presence it emanated suggested an overwhelming power. And then, its eyes opened. Crimson orbs, glowing with an unnatural hunger, locked onto them from within its prison.
Amanita gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. “What... is that?”
Then, a sound—more felt than heard—scraped against their minds. A voice, ancient and commanding, filled their thoughts with an unrelenting force. It did not speak in words but in pure will, an overwhelming presence that demanded submission.
Bow.
Astarion clenched his fists, his muscles trembling as the compulsion clawed at his mind, ordering him to kneel. It was a will beyond anything he had encountered before. He felt its power burrowing into his very being, seeking to shatter him from within.
This was no mere foe.
This was something beyond monsters. Beyond vampires.
Something that should never have been awakened.
The pressure lessened as Alex increased his psionic protection, shielding Amanita and Astarion from the overwhelming force that clawed at their minds.
"This is a god," Alex murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a dire revelation.
Amanita and Astarion snapped their gazes to him, shock flashing across their faces. The very air around them pulsed with unnatural energy, thick with the presence of something ancient and unfathomable.
"A vampire god? Is that even possible?" Amanita asked, her voice tinged with disbelief and dread.
Alex didn't respond immediately. His eyes remained locked onto the transformed Cazador, who now floated above them with an eerie grace. Gone was the pretense of nobility, the airs of an arrogant predator .
‘Whatever is trapped inside that crystal has turned Cazador into its avatar,’ Alex thought, his mind racing to assess the implications.
Behind the avatar, the enormous crimson crystal pulsed like a malevolent heart, its glow seeping into the very fabric of the chamber. The oppressive force it exuded was suffocating, an unrelenting hunger that clawed at their souls.
The avatar spread its arms wide, his voice echoing through the chamber like a funeral dirge.
"After eons of imprisonment within this cursed crystal, I will finally be free."
He inhaled deeply, savoring the moment like a beast relishing the scent of blood before a feast.
"Ah… and it seems a city has risen above my prison. How delightful. I am very, very hungry."
His crimson eyes flared, burning like twin suns of pure malevolence, his gaze sweeping over them with something between amusement and disdain.
Alex took a step forward, his expression unreadable. "Who are you?"
The avatar’s gaze snapped to him, lingering as if peeling back the layers of Alex’s very existence. Then he chuckled, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down Amanita’s spine.
"A mortal…" The entity paused, tilting its head as if considering. "No, not quite. There is something about you... something beyond flesh and bone. I can feel it. The unending vitality that radiates from you."
His smile widened, revealing fangs so long they nearly reached his chin. "How exquisite. You will make a fine first meal."
Alex did not hesitate. With a flicker of sheer will, he wielded the power of the Netherstone, casting Astarion and Amanita away.
They vanished in an instant, beyond the battlefield. This was no fight for them. This was a battle beyond mortals, beyond vampires.
He had already lost too many friends to the wrath of gods—he refused to lose more.
The air trembled as Alex allowed his body to shift, not toward darkness, corruption, or destruction, but toward something else—something higher. His transformation was not of shadow but of light, a beacon against the abyss. The power of both the sun and moon intertwined within him, celestial energies binding to his very soul. Three sets of luminous wings, radiant as the dawn, unfurled from his back, casting golden brilliance across the chamber. They pulsed with divine might, their ethereal feathers shifting between silver and gold, shimmering like a celestial dance between night and day.
His flesh hardened into armor that shone with an unearthly brilliance—pristine white, woven with interlocking silver and gold filigree that pulsed with holy power. Every plate, every etching upon his form, radiated sanctity, as if he had stepped out of legend itself. He was no longer merely a warrior; he was an arbiter of divine wrath and mercy, a force standing between salvation and annihilation.
In his grasp, Phalar Aluve materialized, but it was different from the blade that had vanquished Raphael. Gone was the dark steel, the edge of vengeance. Instead, the blade gleamed with a purity unparalleled—a sword forged from celestial ivory, its very essence woven from sunlight and moonlight alike. Holy energy arced around its surface, twin strands of solar brilliance and lunar grace crackling like divine lightning. The power within it sang, a hymn of creation and destruction, of dawn breaking against the longest night.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Alex exhaled slowly, his golden eyes locking onto the god before him. The vampire god avatar’s eyes narrowed, crimson hunger flickering across his monstrous visage. The ancient entity studied Alex, its lips curling into something between amusement and intrigue.
“So... not a mere mortal after all.” The vampire god’s voice was deep, resonant, dripping with ageless malice and curiosity alike. “A radiant being, clad in the sun’s wrath and the moon’s serenity. How... delicious.”
The crimson crystal pulsed behind him, a heartbeat of malevolence threatening to break free. Shadows twisted violently, coiling toward Alex, only to wither before the divine aura radiating from his form.
Alex did not falter. He raised Phalar Aluve, its light casting away the abyssal tendrils like dawn scattering the night.
“I will not let you walk this world,” Alex declared, his voice steady, unyielding.
The avatar’s laughter was a rumble, low and mocking. “And who are you to stop me?”
Alex stepped forward, the weight of his celestial might pressing against the chamber, his presence a counterforce against the eldritch horror before him.
“I am the end.”
Alex surged forward, the sheer force of his movement fracturing the stone beneath him. In an instant, he vanished, the space around him bending to his will, reappearing next to the vampire god’s newly reborn avatar. His blade arced downward, aimed for the scepter in its grasp.
For a fleeting moment, the avatar’s smug expression flickered into something else—uncertainty. But only for an instant.
The scepter in the avatar's hand pulsed with unfathomable energy, and before Alex could react, an invisible force detonated around him. He was hurled backward like a meteor, crashing into the platform with devastating impact. The stone beneath him splintered and crumbled, golden ichor seeping through the cracks in his armor. His very essence was bleeding, his divine form struggling against the god’s conduit.
His eyes locked onto the scepter, realization crystallizing in his mind. 'That was the link. That was the key.'
The vampire god’s weapon pulsed again, and the metal veins woven through the chamber’s stone walls ignited with a hellish crimson glow. The sigils and runes etched into the very bones of this place activated in a dreadful cascade of power.
A horrific realization gripped Alex as he sensed thousands of lives snuffed out in an instant. The spawn, their tortured souls trapped in the cells, were consumed like embers swallowed by the void. Seven thousand souls, erased in a heartbeat.
The avatar disintegrated, its form dissolving as the god reabsorbed its power. The colossal crimson crystal, the prison that had shackled the ancient entity for eons, began to quake violently. Cracks, thin as hairlines at first, splintered outward like a spider’s web. Then, with a deafening shatter, the crystal exploded, sending a cataclysmic shockwave across the chamber.
Alex’s wings unfurled, the radiance of his divine form propelling him upward. A golden barrier erupted before him just in time to absorb the brunt of the impact. The energy slammed into his shield like a hurricane, straining against its holy resistance. But it held.
The chamber was no more. The platform had been obliterated, its remnants tumbling into the abyssal chasm below. The very fabric of the dungeon groaned, as if lamenting the horror that had just been unleashed.
And then, Alex saw it.
The vampire god.
The chamber trembled as the Vampire God fully manifested, his grotesque form towering above Alex. His massive, bat-like wings unfurled with a gust of corrupted wind, each leathery fold pulsing with crimson veins of unholy power. His grey flesh seemed almost molten, shifting and pulsating as if barely containing the power surging through him. The golden crown atop his head, embedded with crimson gems, gleamed ominously, a relic of ancient dominion now restored. His jagged fangs gleamed in the dim, flickering light, his smirk both predatory and triumphant.
In his outstretched hand, the scepter reformed, radiating raw malevolence. Crimson energy crackled along its surface, tendrils of power coiling like living serpents, eager to consume. The god's voice boomed, echoing through the ruined chamber.
"At last, my chains are shattered. The world will bow once more. You, a flickering light, will be the first to burn."
Alex met his gaze, unwavering. His radiant wings, golden and blinding, spread wide, each feather crackling with divine power. His armor, woven from celestial silver and gold, pulsed with the twin blessings of the sun and the moon. The sacred blade, Phalar Aluve, gleamed in his grip—its ivory edge infused with pure, holy energy, the hymn of creation and destruction humming in its core.
Without hesitation, Alex surged forward, the air splitting around him.
In a blinding flash, he reappeared mid-air, his blade arcing toward the deity’s chest.
The god sneered, raising the scepter. A barrier of crimson mist exploded outward, catching Phalar Aluve mid-swing. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the chamber, shattering what little remained of the floor. Divine and eldritch forces clashed, the sheer pressure sending violent gusts of power across the battlefield.
With an amused chuckle, the god swept his free hand, sending tendrils of blood screaming toward Alex. They twisted like serpents, seeking to bind him, to smother his light. But with a defiant cry, Alex's wings flared, unleashing a blast of holy radiance. The tendrils hissed, disintegrating before they could reach him.
The god teleported in a blink, appearing behind Alex.
With a monstrous growl, he swung the scepter in a brutal arc. Alex barely twisted in time, raising Phalar Aluve to parry.
The clash of metal and energy sent a thunderous crack through the chamber. The force of the blow hurled Alex downward, crashing him against the shattered wall of the chamber. The divine warrior coughed, golden ichor dripping from the cracks in his armor.
The god descended like a falling star, his scepter alight with devastating energy.
Alex had mere seconds. He thrust his free hand forward, summoning a luminous shield of silver and gold.
The scepter struck, and a cataclysmic explosion rocked the depths of the cavern. Waves of crimson and golden fire clashed, each trying to consume the other.
Alex pushed back, his strength bolstered by sheer will.
With a battle cry, he shattered the god’s attack, blasting him backward. Seizing the moment, Alex burst forward, teleporting through the remnants of the explosion.
His sword found its mark, slashing across the god’s chest. The divine blade seared through eldritch flesh, sending a cascade of corrupted ichor raining down.
The god roared as it flew back. But his rage burned brighter.
With a furious snarl, he spread his wings wide and shot upward, summoning a storm of blood-red lightning that crackled with unholy might.
Alex followed, his wings propelling him into the heavens of the ruined chamber.
They clashed in midair, god and warrior, light against darkness, divine justice against ancient tyranny. Their strikes became blurs of radiant and corrupted energy, each trying to outmatch the other. The chamber crumbled further, the sheer force of their battle ripping through the foundations of the ancient halls.
The Vampire God let loose an earth-shaking roar, conjuring a vortex of abyssal energy.
The winds howled, a storm of crimson and black swallowing the battlefield. Alex, undeterred, raised Phalar Aluve high, summoning divine sigils into existence. They spun around him, forming an unbreakable barrier against the god’s wrath.
The god surged forward, his scepter now a pillar of nightmarish fire. He brought it down with apocalyptic force, aiming to crush Alex beneath its weight. But Alex was faster—he vanished, reappearing behind the god, his blade already slashing. The Vampire God snarled as Phalar Aluve carved through his back, holy fire erupting from the wound.
Roaring in fury, the god retaliated, spinning midair with inhuman speed, his claws extended. He raked at Alex’s armor, sparks of corrupted energy flying with each strike. Alex grunted, feeling the divine metals strain under the assault. But he would not yield.
He kicked off from the abyss, launching himself higher. With an outstretched hand, he wove the power of the sun and moon together, a celestial lance forming in his grasp. With a mighty throw, he hurled it straight at the Vampire God’s chest.
The lance struck true, piercing the god and pinning him in midair. The entity writhed, bellowing in rage, but Alex was already upon him. With Phalar Aluve raised high, he channeled every last ounce of divine power into the blade. The hymn of creation and destruction roared to life.
With one final, decisive strike, Alex plunged Phalar Aluve into the god’s heart.
A blinding explosion of holy radiance erupted, consuming them both. The battlefield was engulfed in a storm of celestial fury, the clash of divinity and damnation shaking the very foundation of existence. Reality itself trembled as the raw forces collided, sending shockwaves across the abyssal chasm.
Alex's chest opened as the chromatic orb within him pulsed violently, siphoning the very essence of the god.
Tendrils of white and golden flesh sprouted from Alex's back, slithering through the air like divine serpents before wrapping around the struggling deity. The god roared in defiance, its enormous wings thrashing, its clawed hands clawing at the constricting tendrils. It tried to summon another surge of power, but it was too late. The tendrils tightened, forming a cocoon around him.
The god's form convulsed, its features contorting in agony as its essence was torn away, devoured by the force binding it. When the tendrils finally retracted, nothing remained.
The chromatic orb pulsed once more, sending ripples of divine energy through Alex's body. Then, eons upon eons of memories surged into his mind like an unstoppable tide.
He saw himself in the god’s skin, living through its existence in the times of primordial chaos. A time before mortal men had even begun to walk the lands, when only gods, primordials, and dragons waged war across the fabric of reality. He saw the skies ablaze with magic so powerful it could shatter continents and birth new ones. A time where the weak perished swiftly, and only the mighty endured.
He witnessed the birth of the god now consumed, a being who had once called himself Noctis Vel'Drakul, the Tyrant of Eternal Night. Like many deities, Noctis had sought to create his own race—an immortal legion that would never perish, that would reign over all other beings. And so, he forged the first vampires in his own image, beings unburdened by time, deathless and supreme.
Alex watched through the god’s eyes as his empire grew, spanning countless ages, each passing millennium adding to his dominion. His children, the vampires, spread like a dark tide, subjugating lesser races, bending them to his will. Temples were erected in his name, his throne of midnight towering above all, a beacon of terror and worship alike.
Then, came the betrayal.
A coalition of gods, fearing his unchecked power, banded together in secret. They struck as one, a divine onslaught meant to erase him from existence. But even they could not extinguish his essence entirely. Instead, they devised a prison deep beneath the earth, where time itself would erode him. They bound him in a prison of ancient seals, trapped in the bowels of the world, where he would fade away into oblivion, his divine spark extinguished by the slow death of eternity.
And they almost succeeded.
A few more millennia, and Noctis Vel'Drakul would have perished, his soul scattered into the Astral Sea, lost forever. But he refused to accept his fate.
With his dwindling power, he reached out, whispering across the void, calling to his creations. Yet, they did not answer. Centuries passed. Then millennia. The vampires he had once ruled grew complacent, weak, distant from the god who had made them. None came.
Until Donnela Szarr.
Through the god's memories, Alex saw it all. A delicate, insidious touch. Noctis had not commanded the Szarr outright—he had whispered, a gentle breeze before the coming storm. A guiding hand shaping their thoughts, their ambition. And so, without ever realizing it, they followed the path laid before him. The Rite of Profane Ascension had never been a means of gaining ultimate power for themselves—it had always been the key to Noctis' freedom. Every soul taken, every sacrifice, every sigil carved into flesh was part of a grander design to break the seals that bound him.
And now, finally, after eons of imprisonment, he had been set free.
The last memory burned into Alex's mind was of himself, standing in his divine form, absorbing the last remnants of Noctis Vel'Drakul’s existence. The Vampire God was no more. His power, his knowledge, his very essence now belonged to Alex.
He exhaled, the weight of eternity pressing upon him.
It was over.