As I gazed down at the six lifeless bodies strewn across the stone floor, a mixture of emotions welled up within me. In my previous existence as a vampire, I had often struggled with the morality of my actions. I had preferred to avoid taking innocent lives, feeding discreetly on the willing or the wicked. But the truth remained that when humans discovered the presence of a vampire, their reaction was as predictable as it was deadly—they would seek to destroy me, and nothing could deter them from that course.

The scent of blood still lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the lives I had extinguished to sate my unending thirst. I decided to make use of the power I had gained as a dungeon king. My ability to bestow my blood offered a. I knelt beside the lifeless bodies and began opportunity to make sense of deaths of my preys. I traced the veins on my left wrist with my fingernails. I cut my veins softly to let the blood out, dripping it into the mouths of the warm corpses.

The ghouls, I realized, could be more conscious and capable if they had died more recently or if my own blood was stronger. It was a dark and intricate art, the creation of these loyal servants, and I was determined to explore its depths. The stronger my own blood is, the more control I have over my creations, and how conscious and intelligent they would be. I was not depraved but was still thirsty – and hence it was nearly impossible for me to create ghouls that were nearly as intelligent as a human. For me to fill in the gaps of the intelligence death has taken from them, my blood needs to be enriched further with more preys.

As the crimson drops touched their lips, a transformation began. My blood coursed through their veins; a transformation overcame the corpses. Their skin grew paler and clammier, and their eyes opened, now clouded and lifeless. These were not mindless but still were ravenous. They were something different, something born of my power. Soon, all the warmth of their bodies was gone, yet, because they died only recently, they were able to keep a more humane form.

Because of their recent death, the ghouls that emerged were eerily humanoid, their bodies twisted by deathand my blood. Their movements were deliberate, and their eyes held a dim spark of consciousness. They were my loyal underlings, creations of necessity, infused with my vampiric essence. These ghouls retained only some of their individuality and purpose, though if I wanted, I could have made them into mindless monsters scavenging for flesh.

I had repurposed the lives I had taken, granting them a macabre second chance. They would serve me now as their lord, bound by the unbreakable bond of loyalty.

As the ghouls stood obediently at my side, their eyes fixed on me with a strange mixture of loyalty and eerie intelligence, I contemplated the task ahead. The abbey, my dungeon, was vast and empty, and to secure my position as the last standing dungeon king, I needed more than just these ghouls. I needed an army.

My thoughts turned to the abbey itself—it was imbued with a mysterious power that I could feel resonating within me. It was a connection that ran deep, the bond between a dungeon king and his domain. And it was within this very abbey that I had a chance to bolster my forces.

The realization struck me like a lightning bolt. The abbey possessed a unique ability—one that could aid me in my quest. The power of the full moon, with its crimson-tinted rays, would soon illuminate the inscriptions atop my stone coffin. It was a signal, a harbinger of opportunity.

Tonight was the night. I could already see the dim glow of the rising blood moon through the red-tinted windows of the abbey. It cast an eerie, almost malevolent light across the chamber, bathing my coffin in a haunting crimson hue. This was the moment I had been waiting for.

I stepped closer to the coffin, my heart quickening with anticipation. The inscriptions etched into its surface seemed to come alive, glowing with an otherworldly radiance. I began the summoning ritual.

In a voice that resonated with power, I chanted ancient incantations, calling upon the very essence of my dungeon. The crimson moonlight danced upon the coffin's inscriptions, weaving intricate patterns in the air. With each word, each gesture, the power of the abbey surged through me, filling me with an almost intoxicating energy.

As the ritual reached its crescendo, a vortex of darkness and crimson light formed above the coffin. It swirled and pulsed with a sinister vitality, and from its depths emerged a figure—tall, imposing, and draped in a cloak of shadows. It was a banshee.

The banshee, a hauntingly beautiful figure draped in shadows, emerged from the vortex with a grace that seemed to defy the laws of reality. Her ethereal presence filled the chamber as she regarded me with a mixture of curiosity and arrogance. Her eyes, like pools of endless darkness, held a glint of intelligence and power.

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"You have summoned me, my lord," she hissed, her voice a melodic but chilling echo that reverberated through the room.

I met her gaze without flinching, determined to assert my newfound authority. "I have need of you," I replied, my voice unwavering. "In return, I offer you a chance to rise with me."

The banshee considered my words for a moment, her smile devoid of warmth. "I offer my loyalty to the summoner” she finally conceded, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. I enjoyed the little rigmarole although her loyalty was already guaranteed the moment that I summoned her.

With the pact formed, the banshee offered her loyalty, her enigmatic presence serving as a formidable addition to my growing retinue of underlings. As we stood in the dimly lit abbey, I felt the weight of her power beside me, a force to be reckoned with.

Curiosity compelled me to inquire about her abilities. "What talents do you possess, banshee?" I asked, my tone tinged with genuine interest.

The banshee regarded me with her dark, enigmatic eyes before responding, her voice a haunting melody. "I have the ability to deafen my enemies with an excruciating scream," she explained. "And I possess the power to silence all sound within a given area, as long as it is of moderate size. For instance, I can erase all sound within this abbey."

Moderately sized, this abbey? I do not know; it feels huge to me.

Intrigued, I requested a demonstration of her ability to silence an area, even though the abbey was already shrouded in a hushed stillness. The ghouls, my new loyal underlings, watched in eerie anticipation from the corner of the chamber.

The banshee nodded, her voice now a hushed whisper. She began to chant in a language that seemed ancient and otherworldly. Her melodic incantations grew steadily higher in pitch, her ethereal form shimmering with an eerie light.

As she reached an almost impossibly high note, her voice quivered with the strain, and it became increasingly difficult to hear her. It was as though her vocal range had transcended the limits of perception, ascending to a realm of sound that was beyond the reach of ordinary ears.

And then, with a final, ear-piercing crescendo, her voice vanished entirely. The banshee stood before me, her lips moving soundlessly, her form bathed in an eerie silence. I marveled at the strange magic she wielded, the ability to silence an area so completely that all sound was snuffed out, leaving only the eerie quiet of a vacuum.

As I contemplated the banshee's unique abilities, I couldn't help but wonder about the true nature of her voice and the mysterious magic that allowed her to manipulate sound. With her by my side, I knew we were one step closer to fulfilling my destiny as the last standing dungeon king, and I was determined to harness her powers to their fullest extent.

The banshee's loyalty and abilities were undoubtedly valuable assets in my quest to ascend as the last standing dungeon king. However, the realization hung heavy in the silence of the abbey—our current force, consisting of six ghouls and the banshee herself, fell far short of what I needed to secure my position and rise to godhood.

The hunger for power gnawed at me, relentless and insatiable. If I were to survive the looming carnage of the dungeon kings and emerge victorious, I needed more than just my current ragtag army. I needed strength in numbers, and the thirst for blood that had driven me in my previous existence had not been satiated in my rebirth as a dungeon king.

The ghouls that now served me held the answers I sought, their memories a potential treasure trove of information about the world beyond the abbey. I had the ability to peer into their surface-level memories, a skill that would only deepen as I grew stronger. With this power, I turned my attention to the ghouls, selecting one as the subject of my probing.

As I delved into the ghoul's memories, images and sensations flooded my mind. I saw glimpses of their past, their lives before they had become the lifeless corpses strewn across the abbey floor. I searched for one crucial piece of information—the location from which they had come to terrorize the abbey.

My postulation was that they had likely originated from a village rather than a major city. This assumption was based on the state of their attire and weaponry, as well as their overall strength. The tattered leather armor and worn weapons they bore hinted at a lack of resources and training that one might find in a small settlement or a band of adventurers rather than a well-equipped army.

My reasoning further bolstered this theory—had a massive abbey suddenly appeared on the outskirts of a major city, it would have likely attracted the attention of more significant and formidable forces. Yet, the assailants who had fallen to my ghouls had appeared more like a hastily assembled armed group rather than a disciplined military unit.

Their weapons were battered, their armor torn, and their reflexes dulled. They were not exceptionally strong or skilled, a fact that had both advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, their lack of strength had prevented them from inflicting harm upon me. On the other hand, the ghouls I had created from their bodies inherited their limitations and weaknesses.

As I delved deeper into the ghoul's memories, I honed in on the details of their origin. I sought to uncover the name of the settlement they had hailed from, the location that had sent them to the abbey to confront an unknown threat. In his fragmented recollections, I glimpsed the name of a village—a small, remote community on the outskirts of a larger town.

With this newfound information, I knew that my path forward was clear. The village that had sent these ill-fated souls to the abbey would be my next destination. It was a potential source of both blood and recruits, resources I desperately needed to bolster my army.

As I withdrew from the ghoul's memories, I shared the newfound knowledge with the banshee. "We have a destination," I told her, my voice tinged with determination. "A village on the outskirts of a larger town. It's where our enemies originated, and it's where we will find the blood and allies we need to strengthen our forces."

The banshee regarded me with a nod, her dark eyes filled with an eerie understanding. Ghouls too, were ready to leave with my order. With my next destination in mind, I prepared to leave the abbey behind and shape the course of my ascent as the last standing dungeon king. The thirst for power burned within me, and I was determined to quench it, no matter the cost.