Damerian had chosen to not flee to the closest safe room he had in Temuco, instead he fled to the second closest to put more distance between him and his potential undead pursuers. It had been over an hour since he arrived, securing the room and he had still not received any more contact from RULE. Damerian had activated all the physical security and surveillance mechanisms he had around Temuco to attempt to keep an eye on the growing horde. One of his cameras was placed on one of the tallest buildings specifically to view the sacrifice area. His mind whirled at how quickly the bloodcurse spread. Nearly a quarter of the five hundred thousand looked to have been turned.

Knowing what was happening here, Damerian wondered about the condition of those who were affected by the spell in other areas of the world. None of the news stations he had access to in the safe room had reported anything thus far, but it had only been a couple of hours. If each of the people affected became a zombie and the bloodcurse spread, he would surely gain the undivided attention of his old classmate. That is attention he most certainly wanted to avoid until after RULE made its move. Its promise of power may be enough of an advantage to at least escape the grip of Dracula.

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Vlad, dressed in his Regalia, stood once more in the center of dozens of holographic projections. He was receiving reports from national leaders that some kind of a disease was sweeping their countries at a pace they couldn’t believe. He informed them that it was not a disease, rather a curse that created undead and was the result of the spell he mentioned previously. He issued commands to each of them to herd people to the safety of his fallout shelters located in his V Industries locations. He sent them each a list of their locations and further instructions on how to integrate their militaries with his security forces. The leaders each acquiesced and ended their calls.

Standing from his desk, Stefan looked to his master and waited for permission to speak to which Vlad gave a simple nod.

“Master, Damerian’s spell originated in Temuco Chile. There are currently several hundred thousand heat signatures matching that of a zombie. They are surrounded by a thinner layer of heat signatures matching that of normal humans. It appears Damerian’s spell was meant for the crowd, but the questions are, how did he assemble it and whether or not he meant to have a horde that large. By the time we arrive, they will have most likely dispersed to seek more life.”

Vlad listened while stretching in the armor that made up the majority of his regalia. It had been a long time since he had worn it. The armor was a gift from a talented smith who attended the Scholomance with him. He had saved the smith’s life. He did not mean to save the smith, that was a coincidence, he had simply removed a rival that happened to have been attempting to kill the smith at the time. The smith was as fantastic a distraction as he was a crafter.

The armor itself was one of the last remaining bits of true magic in the world. Forged in the Scholomance from a metal the smith had referred to as Blood Iron, it was a red so dark it neared black. The breastplate was engraved with a stylized face of a snarling bat, the pauldrons swept up and back with embossed lines resembling folded bat wings.

Clasped to the pauldrons was a heavy, black leather cape that hung down to just above the back of Vlad’s knees. The fingers of the gauntlets were tipped with claws sharp enough to rend even his own flesh. Each piece of the armor spoke of the time and care that went into its creation. Subtle folds of the metal and embossed or engraved decorations further lent to the bat motif, such as tufts of soft fur sprouting from the padding at each joint. The padding itself, unseen beneath the armor was stitched beautifully and molded to fit Vlad’s form perfectly.

The pièce de resistance was the helmet. It was an ingenious design similar to a burgonet but the buffe was segmented, layered plates hidden between layers of metal inside the helmet, made to slide out and down over the face on tracks held in the cheeks of the helmet. It was completely unnecessary but remained Vlad’s favorite feature. The design of the helmet matched the rest of the armor in resembling a bat. The sides conveyed the image of a bat’s ears but didn’t stick out enough to give an enemy’s blade any real purchase. The layered visor’s eye slits were angled up, giving it the appearance of a menacing glare and the bottom two plates had two large downward facing fangs engraved in them.

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Vlad finished stretching and thought about the battle to come. No number of zombies could threaten him but dispatching them would be time consuming and could lead to more unnecessary loss of human life. It could take him days to kill the horde in Temuco, leaving the rest of the world to fend for themselves. Even with his vast influence and the means of his company’s security and safe zones, he couldn’t predict the odds of humanity’s survival. It was unacceptable and Vlad would have to swallow a large amount of his pride and seek assistance.

“Stefan, arm yourself and ready the jet. I must contact Haita de lupi. Load the jet with anything you think will help hasten our victory in Temuco. Once the jet is loaded, contact Natalie and have her target wherever she thinks help is most needed.”

“Understood, Master.” Stefan said, unable to stop a grim smile from forming on his lips.

Vlad made his way outside the cabin and walked towards a large, gray-barked tree to the southeast. One more piece of lost magic, Vlad had moved this tree from Romania to Wyoming in the early eighteen hundreds, decades before the land was made a state. It wasn’t much more than a sapling then but now it towered above the other trees in the forest that surrounded his cabin. He took great care in making sure it survived the trip and grew into the titan it currently was.

Vlad placed his hand on the smooth, gray bark of the Arborele gândirii. He pushed his thoughts into the tree, seeking an audience with the tender to its counterpart in Romania. An answer came immediately, even through pseudo-telepathy the woman sounded ancient, bitter, and livid.

“Vlad, if this accursed plague is your doing, our accord will be nullified, and the pack will have your head placed firmly on the end of a pike! If memory serves, you used to enjoy a similar practice.”

“Adelina, a pleasure as always to hear your soul-crushing voice. It remains as smooth as the interior of an iron maiden. Of course, this isn’t any machination of mine, why would I endanger the lives of those I have spent centuries bettering? It was the work of Damerian Claudiere.”

“Interesting. I thought for certain he perished long ago. Am I to assume you will be rectifying the matter of his ongoing survival?” Adelina asked, the sails of her voice had lost some of their wind, but some anger still came through the connection.

“I do, Stefan and I are heading to his last known location where he left a growing horde numbering in the hundreds of thousands. It will unfortunately not be a swift problem to solve. In the meantime, I was hoping you could contact your kin. I can have transport sent to you to mobilize across the globe to stem this tide. A reward for your help will of course be presented once the matter is settled. I still have several chunks of that rock you so love. I would even be willing to part with some as pre-payment, as it were. I can have it delivered with the transport. I am sure it would help motivate your kin.” Vlad said, hoping the woman’s greed for power would outweigh her disdain for him. Their aforementioned accord was simply non-aggression, certainly not an alliance.

A long pause stretched before Adelina responded and, in that time, there was a low thrumming permeating the land immediately surrounding Vlad’s cabin. Every two seconds the thrumming was punctuated by a slight seismic thump, resonating within Vlad from his feet to his chest.

“A deal then. Temporary alliance until this scourge is wiped clean. I will contact every enclave, we will be battle ready within the hour. We will have all the ‘rocks’, as you call them as payment, in addition to infrastructure construction across our enclaves. That shouldn’t cost you more than twenty to thirty billion, a paltry sum to one of your means.” Adelina said, all tint of anger gone from her thought projected voice.

“Deal.” Said Vlad, as a spiritual chill washed over him, sealing the mental pact.

“Which of your agents should we expect to arrive with the transport? I would hate for any accidents to happen when some of my pups smell stilled blood.” Adelina mentally sneered.

Vlad suppressed an urge to retaliate with a mental jab, instead deciding then to change some plans. Vlad didn’t need to insult the woman after all but someone else could. He felt the final thump, lifting him an inch off the ground as the elevator holding his jet finally ascended to the surface.

“I will be sending Natalie Fintest.” Vlad projected with a strong sense of victory coating his mental voice.

Vlad could sense Adelina mentally groan. He could sense her anger, resentment, her regret for taking a potshot at him and finally, the prevailing emotion, her fear. Natalie was worthy of the fear he felt from the connection. She was nearly Vlad’s equal in power and far better with a sword. Despite Adelina’s previous threat, Vlad doubted that after all this time, all her kin combined could even scratch him but their bitter memories of him clouded their fear. Their memories of Natalie, however, were strictly fear.

“We look forward to greeting the Left Hand of the Impaler.” Came Adelina’s final thought projection. She had attempted to emotionally bolster herself, but the thought dripped with panic.

Vlad released his hold on the tree and turned away, a spiritual shiver going through him.

“I do, genuinely despise dealing with werewolves.”