It was finally dusk. Reginald stood in anticipation just at the threshold of where the shade ended. Around him mortals and kin alike stumbled around the mansion. They all knew only two things for certain: Assassins of the Order had come during the day and slain the Marquis and Reginald had not been present. He had been careful with applying those lies onto the psyche. Making sure to leave no obvious hint of his tampering and preparing physical hints to collaborate the story. All of that would still be found out if someone just took the few hours to delve deep and really look

However, a Marquis of the court lied dead, mere hours after speaking with his very Queen of the Order's antagonistic plans. The would have to be payback, swift and ruthless. Why ask question when the target is so blatant? When their side cared little for collateral damage? It was only expected of their ruler. All hail Temna, protector of the blood. Just one of the self-imposed aggravating titles she held. Reginald thought any true ruler of their kind ought to be a predator first and courtier second, not the other way around.

And the moment the last rays of sunlight died out, Reginald fled as fast as his feet and magic would take him. He knew very well that there would be things out there tonight that he could not face. Not head-on. Not yet.

Vacating the premises was not his only reason to hurry thought. Once he gained some distance he slowed down slightly. He still ran fast and with endless stamina, however, it was no longer at a speed where it would raise eyebrows even among other immortals. And he knew exactly where he would be headed first.

Everything had a beginning; rituals doubly so. Therefore, Reginald came to the very place where the working of the so called ‘Reaver’ had started. At the Thornless Rose, he found the exact same room and guided a similar man into the same chair facing the same direction as the one he had seen in the soul-dead patient’s framented memories. Guided, not outright controlled, lest that tainted the symbolic purity. It was not too difficult though, given he was not hinting the mortal into anything they were not very inclined to do in the first place.

With everything ready, Reginald devoured the man as he sat in the exact same position as he recalled; trying to make each and every detail as right as possible. Then he left, the exsanguinated corpse remaining behind. It might help the symbolism given the similar treatment of the ramains but he also didn't care because by the end of the night no one in Drezin would.

And as if on que, the first flash burst through the night, making Reginald’s heart skip a beat. That primal anathemic fear piqued out its ugly head for it was the only source of true, instinctual dread. Sunlight. The order was using captured sunlight. And they were not low on stock if it had come out already.

To genuinely capture sunlight one had to grasp its very essence. It was not the light itself that was harmful to Vampires and Ghouls, rather it was the symbolism of their progenitor’s death. Therefore, containing genuine sunlight capable of harming them was an extremely esoteric, expensive, and long process - arduously capturing a few rays into a box of mirrors. But for that, it became one of the only weapons to make their kind flinch.

Countless battles began to ring in the distance. No second surge of sunlight yet but that would inevitably come with time. The cracking of bones and masonry sang like a lullaby in Reginald’s ears as he smelled spilt essence already filling the night. The Order had come in numbers and they were ready to fight vampires. After all, they have had the whole day to prepare and seemingly took to it with enthusiasm.

However, that did not necessarily mean they would stand a chance. Reginald did not know how mighty their ‘Mender of Aeons’ truly was but one thing was certain of: They would not be the strongest demigod fighting tonight. Not by a longshot. And as if on cue, the true monster made herself known.

Even the stars dimmed; they flinched and fled. Shadows lengthened, lights died. The moon turned crimson in anticipation, for it was a blank slate and would gladly participate when invited by a fellow monarch of the night. Mists roiled in and they were vermillion like the blood which would soon drown the streets. For there could be no doubt that the Scarlet Mistress had come to hunt with her court. Temna had come and brought with her the certainty of death.

Despite that, things did not slow down. The battle was hopefully already past de-escalation. The arrogant mortals forgetting what a true hunt was while the immortals overconfidently thought the outcome was predetermined. All Reginald needed was for them to not realize what he intended to do too soon. And he had a distinct advantage:

Great many vampires were out and slaughtered everyone else. Young, old, or downright ancient, they hunted. Because their court has been affronted so they would leave a broken wasteland as a message; not to mention the decadent sadism many would indulge in. And in numbers they did not restrict their presences. Each and every one of them let their essences propagate like a lighthouse. After all, why not? It would only help them be better sensed by their kin in the heat of battle.

Of course, this favoured Reginald greatly. He hid from his own kind and stalked. Carefully, he avoided the proverbial blazing star that was the Queen and pursued others - the few he recognised - when they strayed away from that immutable bastion.

Daylight burst through the sky again but it was muted this time. For the Monarch fought against it; weakened the rays of oblivion. The mightiest living vampire could not quite win that fight, though it could be… resisted to an extent. Momentarily weathered. But never surpassed. She too would turn to dust under sun’s direct light less than a dozen seconds. Because such was their legacy, the myth of the Hungerer’s death haunted them still.

Soon enough, Reginald found his first prey. The Queen was far away and seemingly fighting off the worst of the stored sunlight. So it was the perfect opportunity. Not far from him stood a single vampire, alone yet confident. She had gone out of her way to bait him out. Because she could divine his scheming. She knew that someone would target her.

“Be so kind as to come out,” she called out the second Reginald had her in sights. But such were prophets. Drunk on the certainty of their visions, that arrogance only multiplied by immortality and favour.

“Lady Seer, how kind of you to come here alone,” Reginald approached, somewhat bemused. “Not that it would have changed anything had you brought an escort."

“Ever filled with traitors, our courts,” she tsked, so very confident. She knew that someone would target her. But she still came because her vision did not show even the possibility of death. So why not come alone? Why not mock the fool who dared scheme against her? "Some of us should learn to curb their arrogance."

“Especially you, little fortune teller,” Reginald grinned. “All it took to bait you out was determination not to kill you. You forget that survival is not always victory; that death might not be the worst defeat. You have taught me a lesson about arrogance once before, let me repay you in kind.”

Doubt finally appeared on her face, if only a shadow of it. She had come shrouded in a bastion of magic; enough barriers that they intertwined into a web beyond counting. She raised her hand towards Reginald and he felt a tug as she tried to rip all his blood from the body. Like a boar trying to drag a mountain. Then she finally realized that she was not dealing with an overconfident courtier.

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Woefully late. Reginald charged her in that moment of surprise. Perhaps he could have done so right away… but he held a grudge. One of the very few he remembered. He disliked putting sadistic urges first, yet allowed himself this much at least. The Seer tried to dodge away - cast more magic - but was too slow. Far too slow. Reginald’s claws extended, ripping into the magic. And they carried the strength of a thousand brutish creatures he had devoured. The weight of every natural magebane species across their world; living or extinct. He shattered everything like it was woven from hay and grasped her throat, then brought them to eye level.

“I have sworn an oath, you see, Seer. One I cannot easily break,” Reginald grinned at her. “I have thought long and hard about how you have ruined me at Urgolath. Now, I am no great prophet like you but I have devoured my fair share. And I realised that death was always the greatest of premonitions, exponentially so for oneself. So, I swore that I would never kill you, no matter the circumstances. Promised it to the world itself,” and he now saw the fear. For that was all he had sworn. For she now had his real name on her lips. 'Reginald' bit down.

The blood was sweet and powerful. Not to the point it eroded all reason and drove him to frenzy but enough to add another drop to the ocean. And eating an exceptionally powerful prophet would have… benefits. Yet he did not allow himself to go all the way. Just close enough. When he was done, the Seer was left a hollow shell, a single smithereen of former glory. Without all that power and magic it was easy to break her mind as well; just in case. Then he dug her a grave beneath the street, deep into the soil, burying her catatonic body alive. She would not technically die like this. Even if she could not escape, starvation would require days to genuinely kill and vampires were vulnerable to little else, there would be plenty of time to rescue her. Even if he didn't it would be enough degrees of separation to weather partial oathbreaking. Not to mention that Reginald might just die tonight.

He quickly left then. The prophet was out of the equation - no need to risk anything by staying. The battle in the distance was getting louder. Another burst of sunlight lit the night, making Reginald’s skin involuntarily crawl. But it was still dimmer than the first. Nothing less was to be expected from the undisputed Queen of vampirekind. Temna’s presence kept trying to resist its own bane and had some success.

Although not nearly enough to truly suppress it. Again and again it burst through, doubtlessly killing many of Reginald’s weaker kin - incinerating them alive. Each of these bursts equivalent to a king’s ransom in wealth. The Order was not holding back. Good, they would not last long enough if they did. They were most likely already finding out that they were also not guaranteed to kill vampires. Because through sheer power the mightiest of them could just barely survive a split second of being exposed to their anathema, then recover from the extreme damage in minutes.

Preying on others, Reginald did not deem anyone else tonight worth personally mocking. No one he really held a grudge against. Still, he hunted while he had the time. Not the grunts or meager courtiers, but the true nobility. He pursued the eldest or most ravenous. Those who could be considered demigods in their own right. And they would be troublesome, if they could fight back. Yet they did not expect betrayal. Were not weary of their kin. Not on a night like this.

A quick claw through the heart. A maiming blow from around the corner, a hundred times faster than a mortal could achieve. Tricks played on ancients minds which thought themselves beyond violation and thus dropped their guard. While other vampires rampaged, Reginald had a feast of his own; drinking dry these delectable droplets of power. One after another. Beings older than any current civilization died in a battle that should have posed them little danger.

“Renegade,” the word eventually spread, hanging on immortal lips. “A traitor.” Of course, by that point, Reginald had slain dozens. He could perhaps devour more but that carried risks. They were not weak and he couldn’t truly let loose, lest his dearest sister noticed and became overly careful. That would ruin everything and get him killed.

Ceasing was his best option. In a way, he had already achieved what he had wanted. He needed an even battle between the sides. Or as close to one as it could get. If his most powerful kin were forced to caution, to slow down rather than charge fearlessly, that would already do wonders to even out the scales. Therefore, Reginald moved towards the other target of his night.

His kin delighted in bloodshed all around him. Fully indulged that instinct for meaningless sadism. Truly, come dawn, Drezin would be a scarlet ruin. Citizen, vagrant, or mage of the Order, each fell to ravenous claws and teeth. Stolen magic and powers of old prey. Be they people mundane or immortal, as long as they were not one of them they would be hunted. And even the yougest vampires were so fast. Faster than most mortals could see. Stronger than a bear. More resilient than a hog. The foolish tried to fight, the rest fled. But few had any chance to outrun these predator, not to mention all the confusion. So, gatherings happened.

Each of them would just become a more appetizing target. All but one. Because when Reginald snuck towards the slums there were fortified positions. Parameters built, deathtraps prepared and manned. They were gradually folding, of course, but not straight-up overwhelmed by their foes. Ready for the horrors of the night.

Despite that Reginald got past. The magisters had defences for the mind that would hold against almost anything, bright lights and wards dedicated to stopping his kin. But it was possible to go further unnoticed. He merely had to make every single lookout believe that there was no one walking by them. Convince every mage that their tripwires and alarms had not been triggered. Line by line of defenses until Reginald was far enough in the prepared barricades were not even yet manned.

That all led to a single building. Relatively tranquil given the muted sound of battle blocks away. Like a glowing bastion in the middle of everything. The Order had come with a purpose, after all. They sought to capture the creature they had dubbed a ‘Reaver’. And they knew that it was right here that it had to appear if it wished to complete its ritual, carefully drawn with death rather than chalk.

How patient could it be? The Order had probably been prepared to camp out here for days. They had hours at most even with Reginald's interference. If things dragged on too long more and more of his kin would begin to take it seriously. It was hard enough for mortals to fight vampires 'having fun' with a numbers advantage. It was exponentially worse when the stalkers of the night attacked in dozens.

Reginald was about to approach the familiar building when a space twisted not far away from him; just in front of the construction. And from the distortion a person jumped out. A demi-god in flesh. Reginald cared little for their appearance as he remembered the taste of the sampled blood while he took in the sheer presence of the man's power. Truly, Reginald might have underestimated them for being a mortal. Though their body remained fragile, the sheer magical might was beyond ridiculous for someone who couldn't be more than a few centuries old.

Of course, it would not be enough against the Vampire Queen. As was obvious by the savage wounds covering the man’s body; every barrier had to have been broken through for those to be scored and just a bit deeper would have been lethal. Yet here, far away in safety, he had half a dozen magisters immediately treating those wounds, alleviating exhaustion, replenishing the mage's magic. Indeed, the Mender of Aeons, for it could be no one else, was weaker when compared to the true monster but it seemed he could repeatedly retreat and recover. Perhaps Temna would face much more of a match than Reginald dared hope. Then the man teleported away again, less than a minute after their arrival. Reginald noted the bursts of sunlight becoming more and more frequent in the distance.

And then put it all out of his mind. He focused on what was in front of him as he snuck into the building. Once again, even the most wary of the mortals did not have the defenses to truly keep him out of their heads. Just a little diversion, looking away or dismissing the passing silhouette. It didn’t matter that the fortifications and lights left no place to hide since no one was capable of spotting him.

Then, Reginald was inside. Inside that very same building he had entered by the end of the previous night; though it had changed markedly. The last spot of the ritual the Reaver was attempting. It was about time Reginald confirmed some of his suspicious… and found out if tonight would be a shot at triumph or certain death.