- [Hwa-Young, the Witch] -
A mischievous warmth wraps around the alchemy lab, where the air is thick with the scent of herbs and bubbling concoctions. Shadows dance on the walls, cast by the flickering candles that illuminate the cluttered shelves. Hwa-Young, the forgetful witch, stands at the center of it all, her flowing robes trailing behind her as she gathers the young adventurers around a table strewn with ingredients. Her eyes, bright and curious, scan the eager faces before her, though she knows most are drawn by the allure of potentially meeting the Vampire Lord rather than the art of potion-making.
She’ll just have to win them over herself.
Besides, not everyone is cut out to be a witch’s student, after all. It requires a very specific mindset and some even more specific sacrifices that most aren’t willing to do. It isn’t like being a normal academy wizard or some wild sorcerer.
The lab itself is a spectacle of organized chaos. Glass vials and copper kettles sit in disarray atop wooden tables, their surfaces sticky with spilled liquids — some of which are alive. Shelves sag under the weight of ancient tomes and jars filled with peculiar substances — some glowing faintly, others exuding a soft, ambient hum. The temperature fluctuates between the comforting warmth of simmering potions and the occasional chill draft slithering through the cracks in the stone walls. The atmosphere buzzes with a peculiar energy. The castle’s magic is becoming steadily more potent by the day. The Master’s power grows.
Hwa-Young stops, her hand brushing absentmindedly over a dusty grimoire. She is here today to mold these adventurers into student witches in service of the Master. Her kind is dying out, so it’s her obligation to make more of them. Across the entire world, there are maybe fewer than ten witches left at best, as far as she can tell.
The witch senses her new student’s impatience; their eyes often dart towards the door as if expecting the Vampire Lord himself to sweep in at any moment. Her lips twitch upward in knowing smile; patience is a lesson they must learn. She’s had some hundreds of years to become patient herself.
She puts her hand on a skull, sitting on the desk. “Any questions?” it asks.
The Master made this for her. It’s the skull for a skeleton monster he upgraded into a champion status creature. He used his power to imbue it with some of his knowledge. Now it acts as a translator for her.
The rest of the skeleton was too cumbersome, so she left it at home and just took the skull with her.
“When will he be here?” asks a young woman with jagged, black hair, raising her hand. “The Vampire Lord?”
Everyone looks her way.
“The Master is very busy,” replies the skull for her. “Maybe if you prove yourselves worthy, he’ll come by,” says the rattling thing.
Her face falls blank, and she stares for a moment. The students look perplexed as she stands there frozen. Then, the witch’s color returns, and her unglazed eyes look back at them.
“Any questions?” asks Hwa-Young again through the skull, as if for the first time.
Nobody raises a hand.
A curious slimegirl slides across the floor, her gelatinous form leaving a glistening trail across the stonework. Her bright eyes blink at the adventurers, and she giggles — a sound as bubbly as her body as one of them slides an herb across the table toward her. In an instant, she sloshes down over it like a crashing wave and then vanishes below the table.
One of the adventurers, a lanky boy with tousled hair, nudges his companion. "Wonder if she'll let us meet him today," he murmurs, his voice tinged with hope.
His companion, a girl with fiery red hair, rolls her eyes, adjusting her stance as she leans against the table. "Focus, will you? We're supposed to be learning how not to blow ourselves up. Can’t meet the Vampire Lord if we’re dead."
“Well, actually, I mean…” starts another one.
Hwa-Young clears her throat, drawing their attention back to her. She gestures to the cauldrons, her voice soft yet firm. "We will begin with a basic bone-hardening potion,” says the skull.
The adventurers exchange glances. They gather around their assigned stations, the clinking of glass and the rustling of pages filling the lab.
Another slimegirl, a shade of translucent green, curiously inches closer to a particularly concentrated adventurer. He flinches, nearly dropping a delicate vial, his heart racing. Laughter ripples through the group, and even Hwa-Young allows herself a small, amused chuckle. "Careful," she warns. "Like a man, if you feed them, they will follow you.”
The adventurer from before who slid the herb across the table turns his head, looking at the bubbling eyes staring at him from below a table.
“Let us begin making potions!” says the witch excitedly, the skull rattling.
The boneless slimegirls flit about, their playful nature unbothered as they prod and drip curiously around the students.
----------------------------------------
- [Elsewhere in the Castle] -
A low rumble reverberates through the corridors of the castle.
Outside the alchemy lab, the atmosphere shifts, thickening with tension as the monsters lurking in the shadows suddenly grow more powerful. The skeletons, once mere nuisances, now march with a newfound vigor, their bones clicking as a strange substance seems to fill the hollow sockets that were once full of marrow. Potion goop fills them.
— How it got there is of no concern.
Creatures of the night emerge from their lairs, emboldened by the dark magic that seeps through the castle walls, and the air feels charged with a dangerous energy.
All Monster Levels Increased! By adding an inflow of potions to the castle’s repository, all of its monsters have been bathed in this new magical power. The base lowest level of every monster type with bones has been increased by {05}!
A violent clash erupts just outside the castle’s inner walls, the air thick with the acrid stench of smoke and burning magic. Shouts and the metallic ring of swords slice through the night.
The adventurers invading the castle face off against the newly empowered monsters — skeletons and dark beasts alike — now imbued with a magical ferocity that wasn’t seen before.
Having harder bones goes a surprisingly long way when it comes to killing, if one considers that teeth are also just bones.
----------------------------------------
- [Outside in the Castle Gardens] -
The Blackflower Gardens, a haven of dark beauty with petals blooming in rich purples and blacks, now tremble under the strain of the increased fighting. Fireballs and lightning blast in all directions as adventuring parties panic because of the sudden forward surging of invigorated monsters. The moonlight casts an eerie glow, illuminating the anarchy as roots tear from the soil and flowers are trampled underfoot as people run.
Suddenly, an explosion unlike any other before it rips through the gardens as a flame wizard self-destructs within a cluster of undead.
A violent surge of energy erupts from the center of the melee, cresting up to the castle’s highest towers. The night itself falls quiet for a flash of a second as the fire consumes even the sound from the air itself. The ground shakes violently, sending debris flying in all directions and as far as the eyes of the living can tell, all the way up to the moon itself. Adventurers on the other side of the castle stumble back, shielding their eyes from the blinding light and heat that takes the night like a false sunrise. A great cloud of dirt and smoke billows upwards, obscuring the starlit sky momentarily.
Then, when it settles, half of the garden is gone, leaving only a deep smoldering hole in the center of the destruction — its edges still glowing with residual magic.
Everything falls quiet.
A few surviving adventurers gather at the edge of the crater, eyes wide with disbelief. The air is thick with ash and a lingering, metallic scent as the smoke clears, revealing giant, gleaming bones in the deep crater, long buried beneath layers of soil and history. The massive and intricately detailed remains catch the moonlight, casting an otherworldly glow.
“What the hell is that?” a boy breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes fixed on the skeletal collection.
The girl kneels at the edge, brushing away dirt with trembling fingers. “This… it’s…” she starts, curious excitement and fear mingling in her voice. “ — No way. I think it’s a -”
A noise catches their attention.
Everyone turns their head, looking past the destroyed gardens toward the silhouette of a skeleton with a flat-brimmed hat and a large black scythe charging straight their way with terrifying speed.
----------------------------------------
- [Vampire Lord Inkume] -
He swipes away the daily hundreth ‘adventurers killed’ screen.
A bridge of obsidian stonework spans the air high above the chaos in the gardens below, suspended like a dark omen against the night sky. Vampire Lord Inkume stands upon it, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight. Below him, the gardens writhe with the aftermath of the explosive clash — petals scattered, earth churned, and the unusual skeletal remains laid bare amidst the turmoil. His crimson eyes, cold and calculating, take in the scene with a silent intensity. He can see it clearly from up here. The bones are massive.
“…Is that a dragon?” he mutters, narrowing his eyes as he stares at the buried silhouette. “— Fucking awesome!” says Inkume, pumping his fist to himself since he’s alone and it is pretty awesome.
The gardens now resemble a battlefield. The air still hums with residual magic, a lingering reminder of the power unleashed. It’s crackling. Whoever that mage was, he had a hell of a punch to him. The castle must be attracting higher-level adventurers to it now.
Inkume feels the chill breeze caress his face, a contrast to the smoldering heat rising from the crater below. Dust and debris swirl around him, carried by the wind.
His gaze fixates on the dragon's bones — immense, majestic, a relic of a long-lost age. He recalls seeing this thing in the memory of Bark’s past. It was a giant monster fielded by the old Vampire Lord. Inkume had wondered whatever happened to it, but he just figured it was destroyed way back then. Apparently, it was just buried by time.
“Snatch!” calls Inkume.
“Yes, Master,” asks Snatch immediately, sliding out from the inside of his cloak that she has manifested in. He reaches in, grabbing her and pulling her out. “Can I have a hug, Master?”
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“In a second.” He looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “Why was I not informed about the giant dragon’s skeleton buried beneath my castle?” he asks, realising he’s been getting these sorts of questions a lot lately.
“Uh…” Snatch looks around herself and then back to him, her body drooping in his hands as she sags and then looks away. “…I wanted to mention it, but then I got insecure, Master,” she concedes.
Inkume tilts his head. “What?”
The ghost nods. “I thought you’d like it more than me,” she says. “It’s pretty great. So I didn’t tell you.”
The Vampire Lord looks at the distorted face and then sighs. “Please don’t replace me with a dragon, Master,” pleads the ghost.
An idea unfurls in his mind, as inevitable as the night itself. To resurrect it, to bind such a creature to his will, would be a triumph of his dark dominion. People give him a lot of shit, and he has to constantly fake his way out of situations. But in his mind’s eye, he’s envisioning himself sitting on a massive, roaring monster. That’ll keep the mortals in line and save him a lot of drama.
A grin, as sharp as it is sinister, tugs at the corners of his lips.
The Vampire Lord consolingly hugs the ghost. “There, there, Snatch,” he says, patting the back of her head, his sharp nails sinking into her hair. “Is there anything else I should know about?” he asks, wanting to clear the table. “— Any other hidden information or news?”
“Uh…” she wheezes, her chin resting on his shoulder. “There’s uh… hmm… I uh…” Snatch pants, her jackal’s laughter filling the air. “Sometimes when you sleep, I sneak into your casket and smell your hair and then crawl under your arm so it feels like you’re holding me.”
“...I meant about the castle, Snatch,” notes Inkume.
“Oh, uh… once in a while, I make things dirty on purpose to keep Fi-Fi busy and away from you because I get jealous,” admits the ghost. “She wasn’t ever mean to me, but she used to be pretty, and I still hate her for that.”
“Snatch,” says Inkume consolingly in a calm voice.
“Yes, Master?” she hacks out.
“I meant about any secrets or information that could be a hazard or helpful to the dungeon,” he clarifies further.
She perks up. “Oh! Well, there's, uh, there are some rats that got into the wine cellar. They’re drinking your collected blood and getting pretty weird, Master.”
“Go on,” he encourages, his hand rubbing her back. “What else?”
The ghost wheezes. “And a lot of the skeletons are taking breaks during their shifts. I don’t know where they’re sneaking off to,” she says. “I think they’re plotting something.”
“...Uh huh… Anything else?” he asks, more precautionary than anything, as his hand slides over her shoulder.
He can feel Snatch’s face squishing into his shoulder as she smushes herself into him. “The human village, Master,” says Snatch. “They’re becoming… odd,” she says. “I think all of the foot traffic is making them stir up.”
“Oh. I forgot about them,” mutters Inkume nonchalantly, turning his head to look out over the forest toward the distant village across the forest. It’s very bright. They must have a lot of fires burning there these days.
It does look very different than it used to, doesn’t it?
The bridge trembles slightly beneath his feet, a subtle nod to the magic coursing through the castle. Inkume's robes flutter in the wind, shadows dancing across the fabric.
“Thank you, Snatch. Don’t worry, I want the dragon, but nothing could ever replace you,” he consoles, and she breathes raspily into his ear as he scratches her head.
“It will be expensive, Master,” explains the ghost. “It was the most powerful monster here. It requires tremendous amounts of energy to maintain,” says the ghost. “If I can give my opinion, it…” She stops, looking at him for a second as if still unsure if she was allowed to do that. Seeing that she isn’t being beaten, she goes on. “— You shouldn’t do it right now. It’ll take critical energy away from the entire castle — more than we have to spare. Also. It’ll really piss off the humans. They hate dragons.”
Inkume looks at her.
“Really!” adds Snatch.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not just saying that so that I won’t spend hours with my horrific, giant dragon instead of you?” he asks, and she nods enthusiastically. “What if I said we can ride it together?”
Snatch’s face contorts for a second as she almost gives in to temptation, but then she relents. “No, Master. It is unwise,” she concedes, standing against the temptation. “Save it for a final hour.”
The Vampire Lord nods. “Then I’ll take your advice, Snatch.”
Inkume turns to continue down the corridor, holding the ghost against himself as he walks. But his head turns back, looking down toward the bones buried in the distance, the gardener hard at work refilling the hole with soil.
He really wanted that dragon though.
One day.
----------------------------------------
It is sometime later.
Snatch has left, getting too embarrassed at some point by his touch before she snatched herself and vanished into thin air.
He’s been down the wine cellar in the meantime and handled the rat problem. She was right about that; there were some of them in there that had gotten pretty gnarly. As for the skeletons, they’re definitely sneaking around. But he hasn’t figured out why just yet.
Inkume sips from a bottle, looking at the label.
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: Seventeen
Class: Apprentice Assassin
Adrenaline: Low
[Experience Points Gained] You have drank a minuscule amount of the blood of a cold-blooded killer! Its magical properties are strong.
“Oh,” he says, smacking his lips. “Very… red. It tastes like red,” he mutters to himself. This one is oddly tart. It’s like a runny black currant jam.
The air around him is cold and heavy, and the breath of the castle itself is, as always, whispering secrets in ancient languages through the stone corridors. Shadows cling to the edges, their dark tendrils curling like smoke, as Vampire Lord Inkume strides through the dim passageways. He holds his bottle, swirling it with the casual elegance of a connoisseur. He savors the taste of the blood, letting it linger on his tongue.
The castle library looms ahead, its doors looming like the maw of some great beast.
Inside, shelves stretch to the vaulted ceiling, crammed with tomes bound in leather and iron. A single, gigantic chandelier casts a pale glow from the very top of the tower, its light barely reaching the shelf corners. The air is thick with dust and the scent of ancient parchment. The vibe of the library makes it feel like a world unto itself, set apart from the rest of the castle.
Inkume approaches the massive shadow librarian, rising from the pit in the center of the tower. He holds out the book.
The librarian's eyes glint with an otherworldly light as it takes the book from Inkume's hands with a pinch of two massive fingers. It examines it closely, as if looking for any excuse to mark it as damaged. But, finding nothing, the librarian stamps the book with a deliberate motion, the sound a sharp punctuation in the quiet.
The librarian's eyes narrow, considering. It turns, its movements fluid and graceful, plucking another volume from the shelves. The towering entity lowers its hand down his way. Inkume takes the new book, looking at the cover.
‘The Power of Unseen Darkness: An Instructional Guide to Corrupting and Influencing the Feeble Minded from the Shadows.’
The new book is as cheerful as everything else in the castle. The embossed, screaming skull full of crawling worms is especially charming.
The librarian watches him for a moment longer before returning to its silence down in the abyss. Inkume tucks the book under his arm, feeling the cool leather press against his side. The castle seems to breathe around him.
He leaves the library behind, his thoughts already drifting to the newest book. The last one was a great read, actually. He feels like he really learned a lot about the world. This is all still very interesting to him, so he’s excited to see what this one has inside of itself.
He wanders through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering torches casting ghostly shapes on the stone walls. The weight of the book under his arm feels heavier, pressing against his side, demanding attention as he sips from his bottle, the crimson liquid glistening in the low light. But he has a plan. He’s going to get a stash of blood bottles, head to his throne, and sit there drinking and reading all night.
But his plan is interrupted. As he turns a corner, he stumbles upon the old observatory again — its grand archways long forgotten, cloaked in dust and neglect. “Oh yeah…” mutters Inkume, remembering that he found this place once before during his initial exploration. He steps into it, looking around the old room, sitting on a suspended, outward-jutting construction from a high castle tower like a skin tag. Through the dusty glass panes, the night sky sprawls out, a canvas of inky blackness dotted with distant stars. The large telescope stands sentinel in its place, its brass fittings tarnished.
Inkume approaches, curiosity pulling him closer. He places his bottle down on a nearby table, the sound dull against the worn wood. Curiosity getting the better of him again, he peers through the grimy lens, adjusting the focus.
The stars twinkle, but many are missing — blotted out by the shadowy veil of his own dark powers. His power devours light. Everytime he levels up, a star fades from the sky. Is this a big deal?
Probably not. He isn’t sure.
It’s probably fine. Other than a few confused astronomers, who really cares about one or two missing stars?
No biggie.
Inkume looks away from the broken, smudged telescope that doesn’t turn anymore and around the room again. The observatory is a relic of grandeur, its circular walls lined with astrological maps, faded and peeling. Dust motes dance lazily in the sparse beams of moonlight that filter through the broken roof, creating a dreamlike haze. Cobwebs drape over corners. Inkume straightens up, pulling back from the telescope.
A movement catches his eye — a small creature scuttles across the floor, a rat, its beady eyes glinting like tiny stars. Inkume watches it pass by. “Get your own blood,” says the Vampire Lord to it, taking another swig from his bottle.
The rat pauses, observing him with all the wonder and love a rat can muster, then continues its journey, unbothered by the presence of the Vampire Lord.
Now he feels bad. It was kind of cute. Maybe he’s being too harsh on the rats?
Inkume takes another deep sip from his bottle, the rich blood rolling over his tongue, warming him from the inside as he feels the familiar rush of power. A shiver runs through him, and the world shifts slightly — his senses sharpen, the edges of reality crisping like paper in flame. He levels up again, the sensation invigorating.
*★✧+- [LEVEL UP!] -+✧★* You are now level 147!
NEW ABILITY [Which Way is Up?!] Active Ability • In order to confuse and terrify intruders into your domain, you can now invert any written text within your territory.
Inkume looks at the ability and then takes another long drink from the bottle, wishing it was wine for a moment. How is a Vampire Lord supposed to get anything done around here? He bets the Demon Kings of history didn’t have to put up with this nonsense.
He glances back through the telescope, curious. The night sky spreads out before him, a vast expanse marred by the absence of stars. Then one catches his eye, a faint flicker in the distance. He leans closer, watching intently. Suddenly, it seems to dim, fading into the inky void that surrounds it.
Gone. Just like that — the star is swallowed by the darkness because of his level up.
"Weird shit," he mutters. “Eh, whatever.” Inkume steps back from the telescope again. He rakes a hand through his hair. He looks around the room. It’s one of the few he hasn’t fixed yet. He might as well. He’s here now. Maybe Hwa-Young will enjoy using it? An observatory feels like a witchy place.
His fingers twitch with anticipation — dark tendrils of energy swirling around them. He channels his focus, the air crackling with latent magic.
The shadows respond first, shifting and merging as they crawl along the walls, devouring years of neglect and decay. The observatory groans, ancient gears and cogs creaking back to life as he wills them into motion — powered by the steamworks from the rest of the castle. The air hums with energy, each pulse of magic breathing new life into the forgotten space. Dust swirls upwards, caught in the vortex of his magic, before dissipating into the ether. The telescope shudders, its tarnished brass gleaming anew under the glow of his influence. Rust and decay peels off of it like shedding skin, flaking to the floor.
[{Restored} Astral Observatory]
{Mystical Spawning Zone} Jutting out of the castle’s northern wing is the astral observatory. It’s a large, round stone chamber with an exotic telescope built into its core that is large enough to see far into the heavens in order to preempt their machinations before they arrive in the mortal world.
Room Effects if Reactivated:
• [Entity]-type monster spawning rate increased by {100}%!
• Allows a trained astronomer to view the heavens, obtaining dark and forbidden knowledge.
• Enhances the effects of {Moon Phases} on your castle’s monsters, granting specific powers during the changing phases of the moon.
• Previously hidden passages will reveal themselves during the changing phases of the moon.
• A new connecting subzone has been added to the [Forest] and [Water Channels] area.
• Your personal [Astral]-type powers have been unlocked for use!
The room is active! Monsters are currently spawning here!
The glow of his magic intensifies, casting the observatory in an ethereal light that dances across every surface. Walls once draped in shadow now shimmer with vibrant hues, the ancient charts and maps restored to their former glory. The air is warm, infused with the scent of ozone and the metallic tang of magic. Inkume watches as the telescope adjusts, its lens clear and precise — ready to pierce the heavens. The room suddenly feels alive and vibrant, as if a switch had been flicked. A soft clicking fills the air as the mechanisms continue their dance.
"Not bad," he murmurs. The castle answers with a soft creak.
Taking a swig from his bottle, the Vampire Lord makes his way back out of the room, having done his one productive thing for the night — now it’s time to take a well-earned break.
Maybe he’ll jump through the mirrors back to the basement and grab another bottle of blood or two for the road to his throne.